How Painful is Care
by PiaculumDeFatum
Summary: A kidnapping is only the beginning for the journey of Greg Sanders' life. Sandle eventually.
1. Angry Young Man

**Title:** How Painful is Care

**Author:** Piaculumdefatum (Latin for Victim of Fate), Khrisrathi, Rathi

**Rating:** M for Mature

**Warnings:** Rape/Non-consensual implied, some sexuality, character death ((the usual)). Additional warnings will be put on individual chapters, as needed.

**Spoilers:** Season 1—current; I don't guarantee that anything is safe.

**Time-line:** So, I have seen every episode of CSI: thus far, and I must say, I rather enjoyed Greg when he was in the lab dicking around and having fun. Henceforth, this is set in the years 2005-2006 (I started writing this in Dec. '05), but Greg is in the lab. Still. Again. I don't care which you prefer.

**A/N and Disclaimer:**_All right, so here goes my first (published) story. A couple of things to notice: I don't own CBS, CSI, or any of their subsequent characters or locations. Chances are, anything you recognize isn't mine. And I'm fairly certain most of the things I use are cited as who or where they're from. Just to tell you, this WILL be a Sandle fic, though it won't get there for some time. Thanks to my lovely betas, Lindsey and Alyx. In any case…on with the show…er, the fic…whatever. _

How Painful is Care

"And only a family, both loving and true

Can conquer this evil, so ancient, so new

As they fight to uncover what secrets they share

And see in their journey how painful is care

Beware the Betrayer, whose meaning is strife,

For their faith shall be tried by the makers of life,

And who shall divine, in the dead of the night,

The lies from the truth, the darkness from light?

Like the cry of the scavenger, torn through the air

A courage is needed, as deep as despair"

-David Clement-Davies

Chapter 1-Angry Young Man

"Give a moment or two to the Angry Young Man

With his working-class ties and his radical plans

He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl

And he's always at home with his back to the wall

And he's proud of the scars in the battles he's lost

And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on his cross

And he likes to be known as the angry young man"

Angry Young Man by Billy Joel

Grissom poked his head in the lab and shouted, "Hey Greg!" Greg studiously ignored him as the music pounded on in the background. Grissom sighed, shook his head, and calmly walked into the lab and pushed the pause button on the stereo.

"What the…?" started Greg as he turned around, but he stopped as soon as he saw Grissom. "Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly, but his brown eyes glowed in amusement.

"Greg, shouldn't you be at home?" asked Grissom. "I thought I gave you the night off so you could catch up on your sleep." His keen eyes took in the shadows under Greg's eyes. Shrugging, Greg muttered something about how he was just about to leave.

Grissom nodded, saying, "Well, go ahead and head home. We shouldn't be needing you."

"Alright, alright, I'm going! I know when I'm not wanted," called Greg over his shoulder as he left. Grissom smiled, shook his head again, and went back to work.

* * *

"Grissom!" called Brass' urgent voice. Grissom looked up from his desk as Brass came into his office. "Have you heard anything from Sanders?" asked Brass, sounding worried.

"No, not since I sent him home. Why?"

Brass sighed resignedly and slid a manila envelope across Grissom's desk. "We received this about twenty minutes ago."

Grissom opened the envelope and removed the letter. He scanned it carefully, missing nothing. It read:

_Dear CSI members-_

_I have your lab tech. If you want to see him alive again, you'll obey my demands. I'll be calling in an hour._

_-Sandra Bishop_

Grissom looked up, the epitome of external calm, but rage radiated from him in waves. "Sandra Bishop?" he asked quietly.

Brass averted his eyes and said, "You remember the case. Bishop's testimony put her father away for the rapes and murders of thirty women."

Grissom nodded slowly, his mind reeling. "Do the others know?" he asked finally.

Brass shook his head. "They're waiting in the meeting room. I thought you should be the one to tell them."

* * *

Grissom strode into the meeting room. His hand shook ever so slightly as he reached up to remove his glasses. When he spoke, however, he emitted no sense of trembling at all. "Greg was kidnapped today by Sandra Bishop, the daughter of Norman Bishop, who was convicted for the rapes and murders of over thirty women. She said in her note that we would be receiving a call from her in approximately…" He consulted his watch. "Fifteen minutes." He glanced up at everyone. "Any questions?"

Nick was the first to respond, slamming his fist down on the table before abruptly standing and pacing. Sara's eyes welled with tears as she blinked them rapidly. Warrick exhaled slowly before simply saying, "Shit," and Catherine closed her eyes, hands gently massaging her temples.

Nick looked up, eyes bright, and asked, "Where was he taken at?"

Grissom sighed and sat, swallowed and said, "Outside, here. Before he even got to his car."

Catherine lowered her hands and asked quietly, "Why Greg?"

Nick laughed dryly before saying, "I think that's what we'd all like to know."

She glared at him before continuing. "No, I mean that it doesn't make any sense to have taken Greg. He didn't even work on her father's case. He wasn't here then."

Grissom said slowly, "She probably doesn't care. Judging by my initial survey of the crime scene, she, or someone, was waiting behind a bush and grabbed the first person who came outside."

Warrick cut in. "Why was Greg even leaving? He had over an hour left in his shift."

At this, Grissom visibly sagged, his hard demeanor vanishing. "I told him to leave. I had given him the day off so he could sleep, and I insisted that he went home."

Sara spoke for the first time. "It wasn't your fault Gil."

Nick said roughly, "No, it wasn't, and we'll get him back. Make no mistakes, we'll get him back."

* * *

Greg's eyelids fluttered as he slowly came to. His head gave a dull throb as he attempted to sit. Groaning softly, he realized that his hands and feet were tightly bound with ropes. He was lying on his back in the backseat of a small car. The car wasn't moving; it was parked somewhere. Greg groaned again as his head gave another twang of pain.

"Awake, are we?" asked a cold voice from the front seat. Greg froze, eyes squinting slightly to try and make out the disembodied voice's form. "Mr. Greg Sanders," the voice continued. It wasn't a question. Greg realized that she must have his wallet, for it contained all his personal information. "CSI's lab rat." She, for the voice was definitely female, practically spat the word 'rat' out. Greg couldn't help but bristle at that. Laughter, sweet and smoky, drifted back. "I see you take offense. If I were you, I would realize that you're in no situation to take offense at anything." Greg bit back a retort, realizing that what she said was true. "Now, let's see what I can do for you."

She swung around and faced him for the first time. Her appearance took Greg by surprise. She was a petite brunette with big brown eyes, and looked positively incapable of kidnapping anyone. Her eyes narrowed as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and she called, "Bruno!" A giant of a man appeared outside of Greg's window. He cracked his knuckles menacingly, giving Greg a wicked smile. Greg almost mentioned that this was the biggest cliché ever, but decided against it. "Now, Bruno, untie our friend's hands." Bruno opened the door and roughly untied the rope binding Greg's hands together. Greg gritted his teeth in pain as the blood rushed back into his hands. "Good. Now help our friend sit up." Bruno's hands shoved Greg into a sitting position. "Mr. Sanders, you and I are going to help each other."

Greg's dark eyes flashed in anger and before he could stop himself he snapped, "I wouldn't help you if my life depended on it!" Raucous laughter filled the small car as Bruno punched Greg in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, Greg's vision blurred as he groaned.

Still laughing, the woman said, "Mr. Sanders, you must realize, your life does depend on it." From the front seat she took a gun and calmly aimed it at him. "Now, let's talk."


	2. My Eyes Burn

_**A/N: **The usual disclaimer. See Chapter one for more. Oh, by the way (forgot to mention), this is also rated for swearing. _

Chapter 2- My Eyes Burn 

"My eyes burn from these tears

You'd think you'd learn over these years

Good things don't last forever

So what the hell am I supposed to do?

You only wanted the things I couldn't give to you

And you had it all anyway

So take take everything

And leave me scrambling

Reaching for something that wasn't there in the first place"

My Eyes Burn by Matchbook Romance

Grissom, Sara and Catherine sat silently at the table in the meeting room, staring at the phone in the center of the table as if willing it to ring. Warrick sat staring at the ceiling, his chair tipped onto its back two legs. Nick paced still, prowling around the room nervously, glancing at the clock every few seconds. The silence was broken by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Grissom shared a dark look with Catherine and then pushed the speaker-phone button. "Grissom."

Greg's voice echoed from the speaker, his panic magnified by the volume. "Griss, it's me."

Grissom sighed in relief, then asked, "Greg, how are you? Where are you?"

"There's no time for that," cut off Greg. "Listen, don't do what she tells you! Don't give into her demands! Don't-" A gunshot echoed over the phone, followed closely by Greg's cry of pain. Sara gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Nick swore and bit his knuckle, trying to stop himself from punching a wall. Warrick returned the chair to all four legs with a loud clang and swore as well. Catherine closed her eyes in an effort to not cry and remain calm.

"Greg?" called Grissom, panic edging into his voice. "Greg!"

"Mr. Grissom," Sandra's oily voice cut across Grissom's shouts. "How are you this fine evening?"

Grissom's face turned dark with rage. "What did you do to Greg?"

"Greg will be fine. I shot him in the arm. I told him I would if he said anything I didn't want him to."

The calm in her voice infuriated Nick. He snarled, "What do you want from him? What did he do to you?"

"Why, he didn't do anything to me. It's always the innocent who suffer, isn't it? And as for what I want from him..." She let out a soft laugh. "Well, he is a finely built young man. I'm sure I could have some fun with him." Her voice practically purred the last part.

"Oh, God," murmured Sara, looking like she was going to be ill.

"And," continued Sandra, "I'm sure Bruno here would also enjoy using Mr. Sanders for pleasure."

"Goddamn son of a..." growled Nick.

"Temper, temper," she mocked. "Now, before one of you flies off the handle...let's get to my demands."

"Let me guess," said Warrick sarcastically. "You want money. Or you want us to free your father."

"My father?" Her voice turned icy. "Why would I want to let that bastard loose?"

"Then it is the money?" asked Grissom.

"No, it is about my father. I don't want to set him free, though; I want to kill him."

Grissom raised his eyebrows in shock. "You want to kill him?"

"Yes, Mr. Grissom. I want to look my father in his eyes and watch as he dies. I want to have the same power over him that he had over me when he raped and molested me for ten years. I want him to know what it means to be completely helpless."

Silence lapsed as Grissom checked the file. "But your father was extradited to Illinois since majority of the crimes took place there."

"I know. And when the goddamn governor ended his term, he took him off Death Row. I want him to die."

"But..." interjected Grissom.

"Mr. Grissom," interrupted Sandra, "I am a reasonable woman. I, therefore, will give you seventy-two hours, starting at noon today, to make the arrangements."

"What about Greg?" called Nick before he could stop himself.

"If you recall, I am a registered nurse," said Sandra. "I'll take care of him. Remember, seventy-two hours. Goodbye."

The phone clicked off. "What're we gonna do?" whispered Sara despairingly.

Grissom stood. "We're going to find him. Cath, make some fliers and send them to the airport and bus stations. Warrick, fill Brass in on the phone call. Sara, process the entrance where Greg was taken at; it's now a crime scene. Nick, come with me." Nick followed Grissom to his office. "Sit down," commanded Grissom.

"Gil, what is it?" asked Nick, brow furrowed in confusion.

Grissom sighed and said, "Nick, you're off this case."

"Wha...what?" sputtered Nick indignantly.

"You're too emotionally involved."

"Oh, and you're not?" snapped Nick angrily.

"Don't pull that with me!" exclaimed Grissom. "I saw you in there! You were mad enough to punch a wall."

"And you weren't?" challenged Nick again.

"Oh, I wanted to do more than punch a wall," said Grissom quietly. "But unfortunately, your history shows that you don't have the same self-control I do."

Nick was silent for a moment, then said, "Fine. I won't investigate. But when you find those bastards, I'm going with you to get Greg back."

Grissom looked at him sadly. "When we find them?" he questioned softly.

Nick met his eyes. "Yes, when. Not if, when."

* * *

A few hours later, Catherine knocked on Grissom's door. "Hey, we got something from the airport. A woman matching Sandra's description boarded, accompanied by a man matching Greg's description, albeit in a straightjacket."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "And no one questioned a man in a straightjacket?"

Catherine arched an eyebrow of her own. "You forget, Bishop is nurse. Apparently, she had papers showing that Greg was being transferred to a hospital for the criminally insane. A worker that I talked to said that Greg screamed that he was being taken hostage, and to call the police, but the worker said he thought nothing of it, because he thought the guy was insane."

Grissom nodded slowly. "Where are they headed?"

Catherine smiled, grimly and fiercely. "Illinois. Chicago, O'Hare Airport."

Grissom nodded again. "Have Nick pack, and you too. Send Sara and Warrick to me. We're going to Illinois."

* * *

Warrick poked his head into Grissom's office as he knocked on the doorjamb. "You wanted to see us?" he asked.

"Yeah, where's Sara?"

"Here," she said as she strode in.

"What did you find at the scene?" asked Grissom.

"Not much. A bit of blood that tested as Greg's, and a stray hair."

Grissom perked up. "Not Greg's?"

"Nope. I'm running it through CODIS now. Actually," she said as her beeper went off, "that's the results now. Hold on a second." She left, returning triumphantly a few minutes later. "We got it. According to this, it belongs to a man by the name of Bruno Manchester."

Grissom paled visibly. "Problem?" asked Warrick, concern showing on his face.

"I know of Bruno Manchester. He has a record longer than you'd believe for assault and battery, though, of course, the witnesses magically decided not to testify against him at the last minute in most cases. He was also accused multiple times of sodomizing his victims, but none of the charges stuck."

"Oh God…" whispered Sara, real fear glittering in her eyes as she sank into the chair opposite Grissom's desk. "Poor Greg."

"Poor Greg?" snorted Warrick bad-temperedly. "That's a mild understatement."

Grissom cleared his throat gently. "I have news. We think we know where they took Greg."

Warrick and Sara's reactions were immediate. They both looked up and asked in unison, "Where?"

"Illinois."

Warrick shared a glance with Sara and asked, "When are we leaving?"

Grissom sighed. "You're not."

"What!" exploded Sara. "You can't not let us go! He's our friend! He…I…" She broke off, unsure how to finish, but glared up at Grissom in defiance.

Grissom stood, placating them. "I know, I know. But I need you guys to stay here and take care of things. To man the fort, for lack of a better term, while we're away."

"You want us to stay here and **_man the fort_** while you get to run off and go find Greg, who could be dead, or dying, or…" Sara ranted.

Warrick cut her off as gently as he could. "Sara, maybe it's for the best. I mean, we gotta keep Greg's lab in good condition for when he comes back, right?"

Sara wilted as if all the steam went out of her. She nodded slowly and left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Warrick sat in her vacated seat, looking at Grissom.

"Problem?" asked Grissom.

"Is Nick going with you?"

"Yes, why?"

Warrick frowned and asked, "Is that really wise? I mean, you know as well as I do how…well, how rash Nick can act in those kinds of situations…"

"I have all faith in Nick," said Grissom coldly.

Warrick nodded, slowly, clearly still not fully supporting his decision. He stood and turned to leave, then stopped and said quietly, "Bring him back, alright?"

Grissom nodded, too emotional to speak. Warrick left then and Grissom turned to look at the picture of the CSI team on his desk. Greg looked particularly Greg-like in that picture, his hair spiked outrageously, opting for an old Marilyn Manson t-shirt and jeans over the rest of the team's preferred outfits. His dark eyes were gleaming with laughter in the picture, and he seemed so…complete. "Oh, Greggo," whispered Grissom sadly, idly touching the picture with his finger. "We'll bring you home. I promise."

* * *

Rough hands forced Greg from the small plane that had brought him from O'Hare to the tiny airstrip just outside of Cairo, IL. His eyes darted left and right, searching for a way to escape, not that he'd make it far with everyone watching, but Bruno clapped a gargantuan hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Don't even think about it."

Hand still on his shoulder, Bruno steered Greg to the van waiting for them. He practically threw Greg in the back before climbing in after him.

Sandra appeared at the back, a maniacal grin on her face. "Well, Greg, I have the feeling you'll find this trip pleasurable. Bruno—enjoy yourself." Still smiling, she closed the door as Bruno advanced on Greg.


	3. Worse Than Sorrow

**A/N:** _See Chapter 1 for disclaimer. This chapter is rated for non-con/rape (or at least the mention of it). Oh, and for all those wondering, the story of the governor removing all the inmates from Death Row in Illinois is a true story. Sill Gov. Ryan...who's now facing 18 criminal charges.  
_

Chapter 3- Worse than Sorrow

"Three things that are worse than sorrow:

To wait to die, and to die not,

To try to please, and to please not,

And to wait for someone who comes not"

Irish Triad

Grissom's computer beeped with an incoming message, but Grissom didn't hear it. His head lolled as he snored heavily, oblivious to the bustle around him on the airplane. The computer beeped again. Catherine nudged him with her shoulder, jerking him awake. "Griss?" she called gently.

Grissom slowly sat up, ears ringing with the sudden return of noise on the airplane. He opened the laptop and clicked on the flashing icon. "It's from Sara," he said, eyes scanning the note.

"Griss-

We received these pics from Sandra and her grunt a little while ago. Doc Robbins examined them and said that the bruises were consistent with repeated rape and beatings. Look at what they did to him. God, look at what they did.

-Sara"

Hand trembling slightly, he clicked on the attachment. "Oh, God," he said, bile rising in his throat as he beheld the pictures. They were beyond horrible, and some were so graphic, no one would have even put them on a porn site. There were pictures of Bruno raping Greg, as well as pictures of the resulting bruises, and other injuries all over Greg's body. The last one, however, was probably the most heartbreaking. It was a close-up on what had once been Greg's face, and was now a mass of bruises and cuts. The worst part was Greg's eyes. No light danced in them, and they held only hopelessness and pain. "Greg…" whispered Grissom softly. Unable to bear it anymore, he pushed the computer away and allowed the tears to come. Nick took it next. Grissom, expecting a violent reaction, was startled when Nick started crying.

"My God, buddy…what have they done to you?" he sobbed, staring at the pictures in horror.

Catherine snatched the computer. A few seconds later she said, "I think I'm going to be sick," just making it into the airline-provided bag.

Grissom closed the computer, the gruesome result of Bruno's repeated sodomy etched in his mind. "Greg…" he whispered once more, closing his eyes to the cruelty.

* * *

Greg lay huddled on the cold concrete in the small room, a broken mass of flesh and bone. His tears had long since stopped once he realized that no one would hear him cry anyway. He froze as the door opened and thought Oh no, not again! This time, however, Sandra stepped into the room, bearing a small tape recorder. 

"I, despite what you may think," she began, "am not completely heartless. So I'm giving you this tape recorder as an opportunity to say good-bye to your friends and family before I send the tape to Grissom. And don't even bother trying to tell them where we are," she added. "I'll be reviewing the tape before I send it." She left as abruptly as she had come, slamming the door behind her. Greg picked up the recorder and thought rapidly, an idea forming in his mind.

* * *

"Gil Grissom?" asked the harried-looking man. "I'm James Peters, Chicago Police Chief. Heard one of your CSIs was taken hostage. I'm offering my entire task force to you, if need be." Grissom shook his hand and thanked him heartily. 

Catherine came up to him then, computer in hand. "Gil, you need to hear this. It's from Greg."

* * *

Grissom sat in the small airport office and clicked play. Greg's voice emitted from the speakers, only a shell of his previous self. 

"Grissom, I don't have a lot of time." Nick came in and stood over Grissom's shoulder, listening. "Tell my family that I love them all. Tell Cath she's been like an older sister to me. Tell Warrick and Nick that we're bros til the end of time. Tell Sara that I always liked her, even if she did shoot me down every time I asked her out." Grissom almost smiled at that. Greg continued, "Tell them I miss them. Tell them I love them." Greg's voice paused, as if unsure how to continue. "Tell Nick I'm sorry, and that I hope he's not disappointed in me. I'm not as strong as he is."

"No, man," whispered Nick. "You're stronger than I'll ever be."

"And Gil…thanks for everything. You've…" His voice broke. "You've been like a father to me."

There was a longer pause, which Grissom used as an opportunity to wipe his eyes. Nick didn't even bother; the tears ran down his face unchecked.

Greg's voice started again, this time brisker and more business-like. "Ya know, Grissom, I never really wanted to visit Egypt, especially not Cairo. I wanted to go, I don't know, thirty, forty miles north? I like the solitude. I like the abandonment of society." Suddenly he giggled, high-pitched and unnatural. "You know what else has abandoned me? My sanity. It's gone, gone, locked away, all alone." His tone changed again. "Bye, Gil, I gotta go." The tape ended.

Nick looked bewildered. "Did he lose it?" he asked. "Did he finally crack?" Grissom stared at the computer screen blankly, then began laughing so hard he was almost crying. "Griss? What's going on?" Nick questioned, alarmed.

"Oh, Greggo, you're brilliant!" exclaimed Grissom. "Don't you see? It's a clue to where he is!" He quickly pulled out his map of Illinois. "See, Cairo, IL. Not pronounced the same, but…thirty to forty miles north, an abandoned place without sanity."

It dawned on Nick. "An abandoned sanitarium!"


	4. From the Inside

_**A/N:** Usual disclaimer applies. See chapter one for more. By the way, I do realize how incredibly unlikely it is to find EST equipment lying around an abandoned mental hospital, but too bad. Bear with me. We'll pretend that they brought it with them. Oh, and Anna State hospital is not mine. It belongs to the good people of Union County, Illinois._

Chapter 4- From the Inside

"I don't know who to trust

No surprise

Everyone feels so far away from me

Heavy thoughts sift through dust

And the lies

Trying not to break

But I'm so tired of this deceit

Every time I try to make myself

Get back up on my feet

All I ever think about is this

All the tiring time between

And how

Trying to put my trust in you

Just takes so much out of me

Take everything from the inside

And throw it all away

'Cause I swear

For the last time

I won't trust myself with you"

From the Inside by Linkin Park

Sandra walked next to Greg, with Bruno on his other side. All three entered the room at the same time. Greg stopped and stared, fear and bile rising in his throat. "Ah, Mr. Sanders, here we are. I'm sure you recognize this place. It's where the old doctors used to give EST. Do you know what that is, Greg?" Her voice was over-sweet and it made Greg even sicker to his stomach.

"Electric Shock Therapy," he muttered, not looking at her.

"That's right, Greggo." The perversion of his nickname made Greg want to vomit. "In honor of this," she continued, "I thought we should have some fun."

Greg shrank back in fear. "No, please," he begged. "Don't do this! Don't hurt me."

Bruno's fist knocked Greg through the air. "Stand up like a man!" sneered Bruno, a malevolent grin on his face.

"Now Bruno," said Sandra mockingly in a bored voice, "We don't want to frighten our guest." She strode over to where Greg lay. "Now, Mr. Sanders, do you want to do this voluntarily, or should I ask Bruno to assist you?"

Greg trembled, muttering repeatedly, "No, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me."

Sandra sighed. "Bruno, I'm tired of this. Strap Mr. Sanders in, will you?" Bruno smiled and picked up Greg as if he were nothing more than a doll. As Bruno strapped Greg onto the table, Sandra warmed up the ancient equipment. "Ready or not, here I come," she chanted under her breath.

* * *

Grissom's cell phone rang. He immediately answered it with the customary "Grissom." As the voice on the other end spoke, Grissom gestured frantically at Nick for a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly scrawled five words: Anna State Hospital, Union County. After hanging up the phone, he turned to Nick and said, "We got it. It's the only abandoned hospital within Greg's specified coordinates."

Nick nodded grimly and gestured to Catherine. "Let's go."

* * *

Anna State Hospital was a desolate place, at least in Grissom's eyes. Sequestered from the world by surrounding forests and farmland, the abandoned sanatorium had only one entrance, a long, winding dirt road that was little more than a horse track.

Catherine knelt, looking at the road, then called Grissom over. "Griss, come take a look at this!" She pointed to the tire tracks sunk deep into the soft dirt.

"Someone's been here recently," mused Grissom aloud.

Nick jogged up. "Well, I can understand how no one saw anything. There're no neighbors for miles." Suddenly the sound of screaming split the air, a tortured, horrid scream of such pain and fear. "Greg!" shouted Nick. "Oh my God, Griss, listen to him! We gotta go!"

He took off running, drawing his gun as he went, Grissom yelling after him, "Nick! Wait!"

Nick's heart pounded in his chest like his feet on the ground as he ran, only one thought echoing in his head. I've got to get to Greg in time! When he reached the door, he stopped, pausing to look around. The screaming, having stopped for a brief time, began again in earnest. Nick steeled himself and pushed open the door, creeping through the halls toward the source of the screams. When he reached the room where they were, he stopped, listening. The screaming had once again finished, but now he could hear Greg pleading.

Greg's voice was strained and it hurt Nick deep in his heart to hear the helplessness in it. "Please, don't, not again, please!"

Nick leaned against the wall and whispered, "Hold on, buddy. Hold on."

The cold voice from the phone drifted out of the room. "Alright, Bruno, that's enough for now. Leave him strapped down and stay here. I'll be back."

Nick automatically shrank back into the shadows, but he needn't have worried. Sandra walked out without looking left or right, and continued straight up the central corridor. Nick waited a few seconds before following her. He poked his head around the corner just in time to see her turn into a room. Gun held in front of him, he followed, turning slowly and pointing the gun into the room. Sandra sat calmly behind an old desk, a gun drawn and aimed at Nick.

"Hello, Mr. Stokes. I've been expecting you."

* * *

Grissom nervously paced around the dirt road, waiting for the local SWAT team to arrive. His stomach lurched in fear of what could be happening to Greg, or now to Nick. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. "Cath, let's go!" cried Grissom, drawing his gun and darting forward.

* * *

_**A/N: **Oo, cliffy! Who gets shot? Do they get to Greg in time? Review and maybe you'll see…_


	5. No One Mourns the Wicked

**_A/N: _**_Usual disclaimer...blah, blah, blah...Sorry this chapter's so short! _

Chapter 5- No One Mourns the Wicked

"No one mourns the Wicked

No one cries, they won't return

No one lays a lily on their grave

The good man scorns the Wicked

Through their lives our children learn

What they miss when they misbehave

And goodness knows

The Wicked's lives are lonely

Goodness knows

The Wicked die alone

Nothing grows for the Wicked

They reap only what they sow"

No One Mourns the Wicked from Wicked

Nick kept his gun steady as he looked at Sandra. "Have you, now?" he asked calmly.

"Oh yes, I saw you run up. I was looking out the window. Torturing prisoners is really more of Bruno's forte." She gestured with her free hand.

Nick struggled to stay calm as fury and adrenaline pounded through his veins. Swallowing, he devised a plan in his head. "What have you been doing to Greg?"

Sandra gestured still, switching the gun to her other hand. "Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. I expect he'll be fine. Though why you would go through all this trouble to rescue such a wimp is beyond me. Did you hear him pleading?"

Nick ground in his teeth in frustration and anger before asking calmly, "Alright, so you wanted to have some fun with Greg. But tell me, why was it necessary to do it here, of all places?" Nick kept his eyes on her as her carefully controlled expression slipped for a second.

"What, here?" she asked in confusion, gesturing with both hands.

This was what Nick was waiting for. He calmly pulled the trigger and watched the confusion on Sandra's face as the bullet drilled its way through her forehead. He was still watching just as calmly as she slumped to the floor, dead, and as the gun slipped from her hand. Ice-cold fury radiated from Nick as he looked down at her body. "No one hurts the ones I love without paying for it."

* * *

Grissom and Catherine were not the only ones to have heard the gunshot. Greg stiffened in surprise. Was someone finally here for him? His heart leapt and he struggled against his bonds with renewed vigor. Bruno, however, was apparently tired of playing games because he drew his gun and pointed it at Greg. "Be quiet, or you die."

Greg instantly lay still. He heard the approaching footsteps and Nick's voice calling tentatively, "Greg? Greg, where are you?"

Greg could no longer resist. He shouted, "Nick! Help, I'm…" He never got the rest out. Bruno hit him on the head with the pistol, and he passed out.

* * *

Nick heard Greg's cry. He ran forward, gun drawn, only to see a mountain of a man holding Greg with one arm, his other hand holding a gun against Greg's head. "One more move and the CSI dies," snarled the man. Nick froze. "Drop the gun," commanded the man. Nick complied, then stood, hands up. "Good. Don't move," said the man as he checked the window.

Nick took this opportunity to visually examine Greg. Even he, who had seen so many crime scenes, seen so many horrible things done to people, was shocked at how bad Greg looked. He looked like one massive bruise, bloody and torn. His face was puffy and swollen, the remnants of his shirt soaked in blood, and though his arm was bandaged, blood was seeping through.

Suddenly, Bruno straightened, muttering, "Shit." A few seconds later, Nick heard Catherine and Grissom calling his name, as well as Greg's. Nick knew what he had to do. Summoning his courage, he tensed, ready to spring, and shouted, "Griss!", diving to one side as he did so. He was half a second too late, and the bullet that Bruno fired tore through his arm. Through the haze of pain, and in a sort of slow motion, he saw Grissom enter and fire at Bruno. Bruno fell, his grip on Greg relaxing, and the younger man tumbled to floor in a heap. Nick nodded slowly. They had saved Greg. His job was done. He was smiling as he slipped into unconsciousness.


	6. So Cold

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer still applies. Sorry this chapter is so short too! Greg/Sara stuff should be starting in the next few chapters. _

Chapter 6- So Cold 

"Crowded streets are cleared away

One by one

Hollow heroes separate

As they run

You're so cold

But you feel alive

Wise men wonder while

Strong men die

Show me how it ends, it's alright

Show me how defenseless you really are

Satisfied and empty inside

That's alright, let's give this another try"

So Cold by Breaking Benjamin

Nick awoke slowly, squinting due to the bright lights. "Where…" he groaned. A pretty young woman was instantly at his side.

"Nick Stokes? I'm Nurse Marshall. Here, have some water."

He gratefully accepted the cup and drank deeply. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Where am I?"

The nurse answered, "Union County Hospital."

Suddenly it all came flooding back to Nick. "Greg! Is Greg ok?"

The nurse looked confused. "I beg your pardon? Who's Greg?"

Nick shook his head impatiently. "Greg Sanders…he was brought in with me!"

She still looked confused but told him comfortingly, "I'll go see if I can find out." She left, her hurried steps pattering over the tile.

A few minutes later, his door opened, but Grissom stepped in, not Nurse Marshall. Nick sat straight up, ignoring the pangs in his injured arm. "How's Greg?"

Grissom sighed. "Not good."

Nick's heart dropped like a stone. "He's not…? Is he going to…?" He couldn't bear to finish it.

Grissom shook his head emphatically. "No, he's going to live, provided he doesn't have any major complications. He did, however, suffer from a broken humerus and ulna, a couple of broken ribs, and massive internal and external bruising, not to mention some internal bleeding. The CAT scan, however, showed no lasting internal damage." Nick sighed in relief, but Grissom frowned. "That's where the good news ends. His psychological damage…well, you wouldn't believe it. He woke up thirty minutes ago and almost killed a nurse when she touched him. She had to be treated for lacerations to her arms and face."

Nick sighed again, this time sadly. "Oh, God, poor Greg. But will he be ok?"

Shaking his head, Grissom looked away. "I don't know. With an event this catastrophic, catatonia is possible, perhaps even permanent. The stress may have caused him to crack, and he could spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital. And, of course, suicide is always a possibility. Due to his violent reaction, the hospital is keeping him on suicide watch for fourteen days before they'll even allow him to transferred to a hospital in Vegas."

Nick's head bobbed in understanding. "Are Warrick and Sara coming?" he asked.

Grissom nodded. Stifling a yawn, Nick struggled to keep his eyes open. "I'll let you sleep now," said Grissom, quietly leaving an already sleeping Nick.

* * *

The first words out of Sara's mouth were "I want to see him." Grissom, who had expected as much, led her and Warrick to Greg's room.

At the door he turned back to them. "Alright, one at a time. Don't talk to him about what happened at all. If something happens, push the call button."

Sara looked at Warrick and he nodded in unspoken agreement. She slowly pushed the door open and entered the room. Her first thought was that this had to be the wrong room. There was no way that this small, broken man was the Greg that she knew. She took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and continued walking toward Greg's bed.

As she approached, he turned toward her, but, upon seeing whom it was, turned away again.

"Hey Greg," she said hesitantly, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. He continued to ignore her. Shifting slightly, she searched for something to say. "It's nice outside today," she said lamely, unsure of what else to talk about. The old Greg would have snorted and made some kind of sarcastic remark, but the new one didn't make any sign that he had heard or cared. Sara sat with him for a few more minutes in silence before she decided it was time to go. She stood and said quietly, "Bye, Greg. I hope you heal quickly."

As she turned to leave, Greg spoke quietly. "Why should I?" Sara turned back to him, excited that he had spoken, but stopped when she saw his eyes. No light danced in them, no hidden laughter lit them up, no nothing. Just dark gaping chasms of helplessness and despair. And pain, so much pain. "Why even bother getting better?" asked Greg again.

Sara swallowed, then replied, "So you can come back."

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not coming back," he said finally, shutting his eyes in pain.

Sara opened her mouth, about to make a retort, when a nurse bustled in, shooing her out so that Greg get some rest. Sara made a hasty retreat, barely making it out of the room before dissolving into tears.

Warrick came over and gave her a hug. "That bad, huh?" he said, only half-joking.

Sara shook her head in despair. "It's like he has no will to live. His life's pointless for him now."

Warrick frowned, looking surprised. "Surely it can't be that bad," he protested.

Sara just sighed dejectedly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "All I know is that's not the Greg I used to know."


	7. Tourniquet

_**A/N:**_ _Usual disclaimer, but a slight warning that this chapter is rated strongly for...well, read on and see what it's rated for! _

Chapter 7- Tourniquet

"I tried to kill my pain

But only brought more

I lay dying, and I'm pouring

Crimson regret and betrayal

I'm dying, praying

Bleeding, I'm screaming

Am I too lost to be saved?

Am I too lost?

My God, my tourniquet

Return to me salvation

My God, my tourniquet

Return to me salvation

My wounds cry for the grave

My soul cries for deliverance

Will I be denied?

Christ, tourniquet

My suicide"

Tourniquet by Evanescence

Pictures played over and over in Greg's mind, like a DVD on repeat. From being captured to being shot to being raped, he repeated it all in the sedative-induced sleep. When he was awake, however, it wasn't any better, the sympathy brimming in people's eyes, the false tears cried at his expense…he couldn't take it. And after all, it was his fault. If he hadn't have left that day, none of this would have happened. Thoroughly depressed, he requested more and more sedatives over the next few days, preferring the nightmares over the reality, until he could no longer differentiate between the two. He spent majority of his hours hovering between hallucinations and the few clear moments. The clear times became less and less frequent, then shorter in length, then nonexistent.

In one vivid hallucination, he imagined Grissom and the entire CSI team dead, and staring at him, bullet-wounds fresh on each person. The Grissom-specter spoke, saying, "You did this to us, Greg."

Catherine looked at him sadly. "Why, Greg? Why?"

"I don't know," answered Greg, bewildered.

Warrick was next. "How could you, man, after all I've done for you?"

"I…I'm sorry…"

Then Sara. "I loved you. And now this. What's wrong with you?"

He couldn't even answer with the unshed tears that clogged his throat.

Finally was Nick, probably Greg's closest friend of them all. "You deserve to die, Greg," said Nick slowly. "You should kill yourself."

The images faded, their places taken by other, varied pictures, but the one phrase stuck with Greg like a broken record. "You should kill yourself…" The thought was constantly on his mind. He already knew how he would do it. After all, he had the knife…

FLASHBACK

Greg's eyelids fluttered and the images he saw slid in and out of focus. Since he no longer recognized the people around him, he only half-listened to what they were saying. Something about cheap hotels in the area, and contacting someone's family.

As he blinked, his eyes saw something shiny on the floor. When everyone had finally left, he bent down, ignoring the pain, and picked it up. His subconscious whispered that it was a pocketknife, and something told him to hide it.

END OF FLASHBACK!

Now all Greg needed was to figure out a time. Night would be best, he decided. Only one nurse on duty. And after she came to check on him, it would be hours before someone came into his room again. He settled back against the pillows in relief. Tonight would be the night.

* * *

Nick came in to visit Greg, once again, just as he did everyday. And just like every other day, Greg was asleep. Either that, or non-coherent. Nick sighed and sat down in the chair. He had been released from the hospital after staying overnight, and now the CSI team was staying in a hotel until Greg was well enough to go back to Vegas.

Nick picked up Greg's hand and held it between his own. "Hey, buddy," he said quietly. Much to his surprise, Greg opened his eyes. Even more to his surprise, he actually seemed to be focusing on him.

"Nick…" whispered Greg hoarsely.

Nick leaned in and said, "Yeah, I'm here."

Greg swallowed hard and spoke again, with obvious effort. "I'm…sorry." Exhausted, he lay back against the pillows, a layer of sweat shining on his forehead.

Nick was beyond confused. What was he sorry for? Unsure of what to do, he gave Greg a half-smile and said gently, "It's ok…"

Greg nodded once, slowly, then said, "Good…bye," before closing his eyes.

Thinking that Greg was asking him to leave so that he could sleep, Nick stood. He squeezed Greg's hand gently, then released it. "Bye, man, see you tomorrow." He left with no idea of what was going to happen that night.

* * *

Greg lay with his eyes closed, listening to the nurse's shoes retreating back to the hallway. When his door closed softly behind her, he sat up and reached around the back of his bed, pulling the Swiss Army knife from its hiding place. He fumbled with it for a moment in the dark, trying to find the blade. He finally found it and opened it, staring at it. The deadly keen edge winked in and out of visibility. For the first time in almost two weeks, he smiled, but the smile was only a ghost of what it had been. He closed his eyes and placed the blade gently against his arm. With a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he pushed the blade through the skin. 


	8. Wounded

_**A/N:** Usual disclaimer…you know the drill by now. The only thing I wanted to comment on was my DISGUST at last night's episode of CSI. Not the entirety of it, just the end. GSR is the devil. And that's all I have to say. In any case…_

Chapter 8- Wounded

"Lost and broken

Hopeless and lonely

Smiling on the outside

But hurt beneath my skin

My eyes are fading

My soul is bleeding

I'll try to make it seem ok

But my faith is wearing thin

So help me heal these wounds

They've been open for way too long

Help me heal this soul

Even though this is not your fault

That I'm open and I'm bleeding

All over your brand-new rug

And I need someone to help me close them up"

Wounded by Good Charlotte

Nick and the rest of the CSIs sat up late. No one felt much like going to bed or watching TV, so they sat quietly in the room Grissom, Warrick and Nick were sharing. Catherine and Sara's room was right next-door. Trying to make conversation, Nick said, "Guess what? Greg spoke to me today."

Instantly, everyone was all ears. Grissom asked, "What did he say?"

Nick thought for a moment, then replied, "He told me he was sorry. I told him it was ok, though I don't know what's he's sorry about."

Sara pursed her lips, then suggested, "Maybe he's sorry about your arm?"

Nick shook his head. "No, he was out when that happened." They lapsed into silence, each contemplating the meaning of Greg's words.

Suddenly, Grissom's cell rang. He answered it. "Grissom." He listened, expressionless. "Uh-huh. Ok. We'll be there when we can." He hung up, stony-faced, then asked Nick quietly, "Nick, didn't you lose your knife the other day?" Nick nodded, looking confused. "What did it look like?" continued Grissom calmly.

Nick's brow furrowed as he said, "Silver. Standard Swiss Army knife. Why, Griss? What's wrong?"

Grissom closed his eyes briefly, then asked one last question. "Did Greg say anything else to you?"

"Just…" Nick's eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened. "Oh my God, no!" He jumped up, pale and shaking.

Everyone looked confused. "What did he say?" asked Catherine.

Nick looked at her, pain and stark realization written all over his face. "Good-bye."

* * *

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Greg heard snatches of frantic conversation around him.

"He's going into shock!"

"Push two, stat!"

"His heartbeat's out of control."

"Blood pressure's falling."

"…not breathing…"

"…flatlining…"

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

Sara shook her head emphatically. "No," she snapped in disbelief. "Greg would never try to kill himself."

Warrick sat her down and said patiently, "Sara, you said it yourself. That's not the Greg that you used to know."

"Besides," continued Grissom, "The doctors said that Greg was suffering from hallucinations. Who knows what was going on in his head?"

Still Sara shook her head. "I guess...I guess I just don't want to believe it."

A knock sounded on the door and Grissom opened it, letting Catherine in. "How's Nick?" he asked.

Catherine sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Sleeping, though barely. I insisted on it. He feels so guilty."

Sara looked up. "Why should he? It's not his fault."

Catherine sighed again. "I know that, and you know that, but all he can think about is how it was his knife that almost took his best friend's life."

Silence fell as everyone thought back on the fact that Greg had tried to kill himself. Once again, it was Grissom's cell phone that broke the silence. He left the room to take the call, not returning for several minutes. When he came back, his face was grim. "Which would you like first, the good news or the bad news?"

Warrick looked up and asked, "Is there actually any good news?"

Grissom gave a wry smile. "Yeah, they're letting us take Greg back to Vegas."

Sara looked happy but Catherine looked suspicious. "Why do I sense a 'but' coming on?"

Grissom shook his head sadly. "They lost Greg for a minute before they could get his heart restarted and stabilized. They don't know if he has any lasting brain damage because he's still comatose."

"How long will he be in a coma?" asked Sara, the initial happiness at the prospect of going home fading from her face.

Grissom shrugged, staring moodily off into space. "Well, when can we come see him?" asked Catherine, trying to judge what Grissom was feeling, an impossible task.

Grissom shook his head slightly as if waking up from sleep. "What? Oh, right. We can go tomorrow morning. They're air-lifting him to Desert Palms Hospital in the afternoon." He broke off again, returning to staring sullenly at the walls.

Catherine eyed him oddly, and said to Sara and Warrick, "Why don't you get to sleep? I've got something to talk to Grissom about." Warrick nodded and turned to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Sara nodded as well, but squeezed Catherine's arm in a wordless gesture of good luck before leaving herself. Catherine looked at Grissom with concern in her eyes. "Gil, what aren't you telling us?" He turned back to her, and for the first time she could see how worried he was.

"Oh, Cath, so much is uncertain. They'll know something if he wakes up. He'll get better if he makes it through the night. He might not try to kill himself again. Goddamnit, isn't anything certain in all of this?"

It was only then that Catherine knew just how upset he was; she didn't think she had ever heard him swear before. However, she understood how he felt perfectly. As a man of science, he was used to the facts. Either there was evidence, or there wasn't. But in Greg's case, so much was unknown, so much was uncertain, no one could be sure of anything. She patted Grissom's arm gently and said, "It'll be ok, Griss. It has to be."


	9. Perfect World

_**A/N: **Usual. Not much to say. The usual apologies also for the shortness of this chapter. The next couple are longer. See end of chapter for another note._

Chapter 9- Perfect World

"In a perfect world

This could never happen

In a perfect world

You'd still be here

And it makes no sense

I could just pick up the pieces

But to you

This means nothing, nothing at all"

Perfect World by Simple Plan

The air-lift went without a hitch. Greg was lifted by helicopter to O'Hare, and then sent by plane to Vegas, where he was met by another helicopter to take him to Desert Palms. Once there, he was ushered to a private room where the CSIs were waiting. They had opted to leave before him so that they could arrive and be ready to welcome him home. Greg, of course, had no idea about the small "party" taking place, since he was still comatose. In actuality, the party was more of a funeral, sans the bad organ music and dark suits. There were tears, mostly from Catherine, and everyone just stood around talking in hushed voices, as if they would wake Greg from sleeping if they spoke any louder. It was Nick who noticed how dismal the welcoming committee had become, and spoke up over the whispered conversations. "Hey, guys, he's not dead yet."

Everyone stopped talking and stared at him, shocked. Nick continued, "I mean, the doctors said that chances are in favor of a full recovery, right? And you know that Greg wouldn't want us to sit here and mourn for him, so..."

Sara's voice cut him off. "Obviously he did, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to kill himself." The bitterness in her voice was like a slap in the face. She didn't stop there, though. "As far as I'm concerned, the Greg I knew died as soon as thoughts of suicide ran through his head." She looked at them all, then turned and walked out of the room.

Nick started after her, but Grissom stopped him, and then went after her himself. "Hey, Sidle! Sidle!" called Grissom, jogging to catch up. He slowed as he approached. "Do you want to explain that little outburst back there?"

Sara stopped and turned to him, deadly calm. "I spoke the truth, unlike everyone else, acting like nothing had changed. I..."

Grissom's cell erupted in rings. Grissom checked the ID, then said, "This might change your mind." He listened intensely, said thanks, then hung up. "Well, I've got some good news. The Greg that tried to kill himself wasn't the Greg that you knew, unless you knew Greg when he was on _Claviceps purpurea,_ more commonly known as ergot."

"Ergot?" asked Sara in confusion.

"A fungus that grows on damp barley, and a compound in LSD. It's a hallucinogen, obviously, and Greg tested positive for it."

"He was drugged?"

"My guess—no. Natural ergot isn't like most synthetic and even most natural drugs. It's rarely manufactured anymore because its life is short and it can be transmitted through the air. It's safer to make it synthetically. Of course, large quantities would be needed to make someone suffer the hallucinations that Greg did, so what I think is that a nearby farmer had stocked up his barley somewhere close and the fungus became airborne."

Sara nodded slowly. "Ok, so he was affected by the barley that contained ergot, and then suffered hallucinations. Did the ergot also provide the suicidal tendencies?"

Grissom balked at that. "I'm afraid not. His own mind provided that as a solution."

Sara's eyes were bright again. "So in other words, the ergot doesn't explain anything."

Grissom sighed. "No, I guess not." Sara nodded, then turned to leave. "Sara?" called Grissom. She half-turned back, sadly. "Don't hold it against him. We don't know what kind of hell he lived through in his head."

* * *

_**A/N(Again):** Ergot/_Claviceps Purpurea _is in fact a real drug, and it does grow on damp barley, etc. True Story. I couldn't make that up if I tried._


	10. I Say A Little Prayer

_**A/N: **I promised a longer chapter and here she is. Of course, if you don't count the song in the beginning, it's close to the same length, but meh. I go with what the word count says. In any case, usual disclaimer. Blah blah blah. Oh, I don't own the Hail Mary prayer, and apologize if I got it wrong; I'm not Catholic. I also do not own the Lord's Prayer. I also left out the last part of the Protestant Lord's Prayer (For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever) because I was attempting to adhere to the Catholic tradition of not saying that part. Whatever. This Author's note is REALLY long. So just read it._

Chapter 10- I Say a Little Prayer

"The moment I wake up  
Before I put on my makeup  
I say a little pray for you  
While combing my hair now,  
And wondering what dress to wear now,  
I say a little prayer for you

Forever, and ever, you'll stay in my heart  
and I will love you  
Forever, and ever, we never will part  
Oh, how I love you  
Together, forever, that's how it must be  
To live without you  
Would only mean heartbreak for me.

I run for the bus, dear,  
While riding I think of us, dear,  
I say a little prayer for you.  
At work I just take time  
And all through my coffee break-time,  
I say a little prayer for you.

Forever, and ever, you'll stay in my heart  
and I will love you  
Forever, and ever we never will part  
Oh, how I'll love you  
Together, forever, that's how it must be  
To live without you  
Would only mean heartbreak for me"

I Say a Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin

Sara kept walking, past the main entrance to the hospital, past the nurses' station, past everything, until she found herself at a place she never thought she'd be. She had wound up at the chapel, and her mouth twisted at the irony. She looked around and sighed. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? She pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside, savoring the silence that hung in the darkened room. It was a pretty chapel with a few pews as well as all the other things one would expect to find in a chapel. The only light came from the stained-glass windows on the back wall, and few flickering candles.

Sara paused, slightly unsure, then stepped into a pew and sat down. She stared up at the figure of Jesus on the cross until her eyes started to blur, and then she closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her folded hands.

"Hey God," she began, her voice little more than a whisper. "It's me. I know we haven't really talked in awhile. That's my fault, I know. Actually, the last time we spoke wasn't too different from now, huh? Things were kinda similar, remember? The explosion? I think I promised you anything if you would make Greg ok. And he was. But still, ironic, huh? Here we are again, and God, it's about Greg." She paused, trying to formulate the words in her head so she could say what she meant. "I know that he wasn't himself. I know that. But I just wish...I wish he had thought of another way. Look, I know you know what happened, so I won't go into that...and look, God, I won't even ask you why you did this to him (although I'd love to know why), or anything like that. It's just...he has to get better. He has to. Because..."

The realization settled in her stomach like a load of bricks.

"Because I love him."

* * *

Warrick sighed as he strolled through the halls, looking for Sara. Grissom had sent him to find her. He had looked everywhere, the cafeteria, the bathrooms, everywhere. Well, everywhere except...

His mouth opened in surprise as Sara stepped out of the chapel. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. "Sara..." he said, stepping forward and enveloping her in a hug. She hugged him tightly, then let go, stepping away and wiping her face.

"I...I should go. How is he?"

Warrick shook his head. "No change."

Sara nodded slowly, then walked away, deep in thought.

Warrick stared after her, then looked in the chapel. It was so peaceful in there. He wondered vaguely how many people had come in here to pray, to offer God anything to save their loved ones. He stood, back resting on the wall, and began to speak, hoping God would hear him.

"Man, I don't know what to say. I've never been very good at this. It's been...I dunno, years since I went to church. I guess the main thing I want to ask is that you please, please save Greg. Don't let him die, man, please. We all love him here, even if we don't show it, and I don't know what we'd do without him...what I'd do without him. He's like my little brother. Wrong color, but hey, it's what's on the inside, right? Well, on the inside, we're bros. Forever and always. Take care of him, Lord. Please, let my brother be ok."

* * *

Nick sighed as he slumped in the pew. He had been in the little chapel for almost a half hour now, and still hadn't said the things he'd come to say. He looked up at the statue of Jesus and was disgusted by the benevolent look the artist had carved on his merciful features. Nick sat forward and started talking, eyes never leaving the statue.

"Now would be the time for begging and pleading, right? Promising you that I'll change, I'll go to church, I'll read the bible, if you'd just spare Greg. Well, fuck that. I've seen too much shit in this world to believe that if someone starts going to church then you'll relent on the crap you throw at us. I understand you're punishing people. Hell, I deserve what's coming to me. I killed someone in cold blood. I shot her, I fucking killed her and I don't even feel one goddamn ounce of remorse. But Greg, man...Greg doesn't deserve any of this. He's a good kid...kid being the key word. He's just a kid. I know he's, what, thirty? Thirty-one? Maybe older, I dunno...but inside...he's still a kid at heart, and a sweet, innocent kid at that. Why would you want to take that away? Why? What did Greg do to you?

"There's that psalm, right? 'The Lord is my shepherd' and all that shit, right? Well, you're the worst fucking shepherd ever. I don't care if I burn in hell for all eternity for saying that, cuz it's true. I need Greg here, we need Greg, we..."

He broke down crying and could only manage one word more.

"Please."

* * *

Grissom stared around at the now vacant chapel. After discovering Nick in there, sobbing, almost twenty minutes ago, he had insisted that Nick go home and sleep. Now, he was here, in a place he never thought he'd set foot in again. He had been a religious man at one point in his life, a Catholic, in fact, but he'd semi-abandoned his spirituality in pursuit of science. Now he sat, the cold wood of the pew providing no comfort to him. He tried to remember how to say a Hail Mary.

"Hail Mary, full of Grace,

For the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women,

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb

Hail Mary, Mother of God

Pray for us sinners now

And at the hour of our death"

He faltered and stopped. Those words hit a little too close to home. He prayed that this wasn't the hour of Greg's death. Switching gears, he began the only other prayer he remembered from his Catholic days. (**A/N: The Italicized words in the parentheses are what Grissom thinks as he says the prayer.)**

"Our Father, who art in Heaven" (_Is there even a heaven? And if Greg dies, will he go there?_)

"Hallowed be thy name" (_I wish I knew if you even exist...I wish...Oh, God, I wish for so many things..._)

"Thy Kingdom come" (_If this is supposed to be your kingdom, how could you do this to him? How?_)

"Thy will be done" (_How could this be your will? Look at him...at how broken he is...is **that** your will?_)

"On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our Daily Bread" (_Give him this day, please...let him live to see the day..._)

"And forgive us our trespasses" (_Will you forgive them? Will you forgive them for what they did to this beautiful, innocent boy?_)

"As we forgive those who trespass against us" (_Never. No way in hell will I ever forgive them for what they've done to him_)

"Lead us not into Temptation" (_Yeah, you did a great job with keeping Bishop and Manchester out of temptation_)

"But deliver us from evil." (_Why couldn't you deliver him? Did he call on you? Did you hear his cries? Who will be his deliverer now?_)

* * *

_**A/N:** Oh, just as a side note, I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone's religion. _  



	11. Dare You to Move

_**A/N:** Bit of a longer chap again. Usual disclaimer. Oh, I own Nicola and Melissa, and their story. And just as a side note, I realize that fourteen days in a coma may seem a little extreme, but depending on the situation, it's perfectly reasonable. According to the research I did, if a situation is traumatic enough, a body may keep itself in a coma for years. In any case...  
_

Chapter 11- Dare You to Move

"Maybe Redemption has stories to tell

Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell

Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Where you gonna go?

Where you gonna go?

Salvation is here

Dare you to move

Dare you to move

Dare you to lift yourself up off the floor

Dare you to move

Dare you to move

Like today never happened

Today never happened before"

Dare You to Move by Switchfoot

Fourteen days later, Greg was still comatose, hovering somewhere between death and life. Everyone visited as often as they could, but, since they were back in Vegas, they had work.

It was a warm afternoon the day Greg awoke, and Grissom sat calmly in the chair next to Greg's bed, reading one of his many entomology books. Any and all objects that could possibly be used as weapons had been removed from his person. They had even insisted on taking his shoelaces, just so that Greg couldn't steal them and hang himself. Grissom had really wanted to point out that anyone would notice if someone woke up from a coma and was stealing their shoelaces, but decided against it. He was mildly surprised that they didn't take his book, in fear Greg would paper cut himself to death.

In any case, he flipped idly through his book, pausing every so often to check on Greg, who remained unchanged. Suddenly, just as Grissom was getting absorbed into a particularly gruesome part about cockroaches' exoskeletons, he heard a soft groan from the bed. Dropping the book in shock, Grissom quickly leaned over the bed. "Greg? Greggo?"

Greg's eyelids fluttered and he opened his mouth. "Griss," he whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, thank God. Here, don't talk, drink some water."

Greg did, gratefully, then croaked, "How…long?"

Grissom frowned, then said cautiously, "You've been in a coma for over two weeks. Do you remember anything before that?"

Greg closed his eyes and then nodded slowly, his forehead creasing as he remembered. "So…I didn't…do it?" he asked finally, hopelessness evident in his voice.

"No. They saved you in time. We almost lost you, though."

"Wish you had," said Greg, not quite joking. Silence fell with Grissom unsure of what to say until Greg said, "You…mad?"

Grissom shook his head emphatically. "No! Never. Just…" He trailed off.

"Disappointed?" supplied Greg with a wry smile that didn't meet his eyes.

Grissom neither confirmed nor denied that; he just asked the one question that had been haunting him. "Why, Greg?"

"Why not?" replied Greg in a miserable attempt at levity. When Grissom didn't laugh, Greg continued, a hard edge in his voice. "What reason do I have to live?"

"You have every reason to live!" exclaimed Grissom.

"Maybe every reason's not good enough," retorted Greg icily.

"That's bull," said Grissom calmly. "Absolute bull and you know it." Greg didn't answer, just stared off into space. "Well…I'll let you sleep then," Grissom said stiffly, his mind reeling with how he could help Greg.

Greg just turned and looked at him with those dead eyes. "Ok," he said quietly.

Grissom knew then that Greg wanted him to leave and be angry with him because if he did, it would mean that he didn't care, and then Greg could justify taking his own life. With this realization, Grissom knew that he had very little time to bring Greg back form the edge until he was too far gone. Pausing briefly, Grissom turned back to Greg and wrapped him in a big bear hug. Greg didn't protest or hug back, but when Grissom let go and stepped away, he saw Greg's eyes were in a whirlpool of emotion. "I'll be back," he told Greg, adding under his breath as he strode from the room, "And so will you."

* * *

Grissom stood nervously on the front stoop of the cozy little house nestled in suburban California. He rang the doorbell, then waited, unsure how those inside would react to him being here. The sounds of running footsteps could be heard, then the click of a lock. A little girl, around seven years old, with blonde pigtails and big blue eyes stood in the doorway. She grinned at Grissom in recognition. "Uncle Gil!" she squealed.

"Nicola!" he laughed, reaching down and picking her up.

She planted a big kiss on his cheek, then squirmed out of his arms to run into the house, calling, "Mama! Uncle Gil's here!"

Melissa Hillsburg strode from the kitchen, a grin on her face, but concern in her eyes. Grissom understood this concern. He had first met Melissa and Nicola two years ago, when they still lived in Vegas. Steve Hillsburg, her husband, was accused of the rapes and murders of ten women. It took Nicola's confession of Steve molesting her to seal his fate: life in prison. To back up her confession, though, they needed physical evidence, and the task of retrieving this had fallen to Greg. He had had to gain Nicola's trust to get her to allow a nurse to get the evidence, and in that time, he and she had gotten really close. Melissa was probably worried that a complication had come up and Steve was going to be released or something of the sort. Grissom flashed her a brief smile to reassure her, then embraced her.

"Gil Grissom," she said, smiling. "To whom do I owe this honor?"

"Greg, actually," said Grissom as he pecked her on the cheek.

"Oh, is he with you?" she asked, looking around him.

"I'm afraid not. It's actually on his behalf that I came here."

At Grissom's worried tone, the smile faded slightly on her face. "Well, come in, come in. I hope you'll excuse the mess; I've been meaning to clean for ages."

Grissom smiled again, but it didn't meet his eyes. They sat, Grissom on the couch, with Nicola sprawled across his lap, and Melissa seated in the armchair.

Nicola asked, "Uncle Gil, why isn't Greg with you?"

Grissom sighed. "Greg isn't here, honey, because Greg is very sick."

"Oh," said Nicola thoughtfully. "I was sick once. Will Greg get better? I got better."

"I'm afraid that's the problem," said Grissom softly. "Greg doesn't want to get better."

"Why not?" demanded Nicola, her blue eyes serious.

Melissa exchanged a look with Grissom, and then said gently, "Honey, why don't you go play outside? Uncle Gil and I have grown-up things to talk about."

Nicola pouted, gave both her mother and Grissom stern looks, and then marched outside, presumably to play.

Grissom smiled after her. "She's a good kid, isn't she?"

"Yeah," said Melissa softly, "and she has you and Greg to thank for that." Silence fell as Grissom's good mood evaporated. Melissa looked down at her hands, then asked, "Gil, what's wrong with Greg?"

Grissom sighed, then leaned back and explained the whole story. Melissa was crying before they even got to what they did to Greg, so he decided to gloss over a few parts. When he finally got to how Greg tried to kill himself, Melissa gasped in disbelief. "Is he…is he…?"

"Yes, he's alright, but he has no will to live."

Melissa sat, chewing on her lip. "What do you want us to do?" she asked finally.

"I need to borrow Nicola. I hope that she'll be able to convince Greg that he matters."

Melissa nodded firmly. "Of course, whatever we can do to help." She raised her voice slightly. "Nicola, can you come in here?"

Nicola galloped in, her chagrin over being discharged against her will forgotten. "What is it, Mama?"

"How would you like to come with me to visit Greg?" asked Grissom, eyes twinkling.

"Oo, yay! Mommy, can I, please!" exclaimed Nicola.

Melissa hid a smile. "Alright, I suppose."

* * *

Greg lay quietly on his bed, eyes closed. Archie had brought him his iPod in case he wanted to listen to it, but no such urge took him. Listening to music would only help the sleep come on faster, and when he was asleep, the nightmares began. Every night, when he was forced to sleep due to the sedatives and medication, they plagued him. They were worse then, because Greg couldn't wake up. He would dream vividly, remembering every time he was punched or hit, every time they beat him, every time Bruno…

Greg wasn't aware that he was crying until he heard Sara's voice say, "Greg? Are you ok? Do you need a doctor?" Greg shook his head, eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh, Greg," sighed Sara, and she leaned down to give him a hug. Greg flinched as she touched him, so she drew back, not wishing to hurt him more.

She looked down at him, worry in her eyes. He was too thin, having been thin to begin with, and then the trauma and illness taking its toll. His face was gaunt and haunted, shadows under his eyes where they had once never been. Sara realized that she hadn't seen him smile since the kidnapping. He needed to smile; his face looked wrong when it wasn't smiling.

A knock sounded on the door, so Sara went to go answer it. Grissom stood outside, a small child clutched in his arms. "Is Greg awake?" he asked quietly.

Sara nodded. "Let me just say good-bye, alright?"

Grissom nodded in confirmation. Sara went back into the room and said quietly, "Greg? Grissom's here, so I'm gonna head out." Greg opened his eyes and nodded, the look of a hunted animal not leaving his face. Sara left, nodding to Grissom on her way out, and smiling at the little girl, even as her heart was breaking for Greg. She didn't know what Grissom was up to, but she hoped that whatever it was, it helped Greg.


	12. The Reason Part 1

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer still and always will apply. This is the first semi-happy chapter of this story. Yay. An almost return to normalcy for Greg. Oh, and this chapter is a Part 1 simply because I use a different part of the song in a later chapter. But in any case…_

Chapter 12- The Reason (Part 1)

"I'm not a perfect person

There's many things I wish I didn't do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I found a reason for me

To change who I used to be

A reason to start over new

And the reason is you"

The Reason by Hoobastank

Grissom poked his head in the room. "Hey, Greg, you up for a small, hyperactive visitor?" he asked, smiling slightly as he attempted to restrain Nicola from going in. Greg's face showed confusion but his eyes were as dead as ever.

Grissom could no longer restrain the girl, and she dashed into the room with the boundless energy that Greg used to have. Greg's mouth dropped open, first in shock and then in an "Oomph!" as Nicola flopped on his stomach. He winced in pain as she hit his still-tender bruises. "Nicola," he gasped, pulling her off of his ribs and seating her next to him. "What are you doing here?"

She turned to him and planted a big butterfly kiss on his cheek, then replied, "Uncle Gil asked if I wanted to visit you."

Greg grinned down at her, the first genuine smile he'd given in weeks. "Well, I'm glad you came," he said, getting slightly choked up as he said it.

She gave him a shy grin, and then snuggled up next to him, suddenly serious. "Greg, why don't you want to get better?"

Greg sighed, then turned his head away. "I guess I just don't have any reason to get better." He turned back to her, trying to smile, but the sadness remained in his eyes. "No one needs me."

Grissom opened his mouth to protest but Nicola beat him to it. "We need you. When I needed you to take my daddy away, you were there. What if someone else needs you, too? That's why you have to get better. Cuz we need you."

It was in those simple words that Greg saw the truth. He saw all the victims of rape and murder and crime that he had been able to help. Those were the people who needed him.

"And," continued Nicola, more hesitantly, "because you're my hero."

Greg started and sat upright. "Why?" he asked. "Why am I your hero?"

"Because you saved my life," she answered simply.

It was then that Greg knew he'd go back to the crime lab. Perhaps he had known it all along, but now he saw it with crystal-clear certainty.

Greg Sanders had found his will to live.

* * *

Nicola and Greg talked for over an hour after that, Greg's eyes glowing in amusement as he relentlessly tickled her. Grissom looked on, a smile growing larger and larger as he watched the two. He hated to break them up, but he finally had to clear his throat and say, "Nicola, your mom's going to be here any minute now."

Nicola and Greg sat up, wiping tears of laughter off their cheeks. "Alright, Griss, alright," said Greg. He turned to Nicola and said seriously, "Thanks, Nicola. I feel better than I've felt in a long time."

She gazed at him and said cheerfully, "You're welcome, Greg. Now all you have to do is get better."

Greg nodded. "Will do."

An orderly poked her head in the room. "Mr. Grissom, there's a woman here for her daughter."

Nicola slid off the bed, then turned to give Greg a hug. "Bye, Greg!"

"Bye, Nicola. Be good, alright?"

"Oh, I will," she said with a roguish wink that emulated Greg so much it made Grissom laugh aloud.

"C'mere, you," growled Greg, pulling her to him and hugging her once more. "I love you, Nicola. Remember that."

"I love you, too, Greg," she said, kissing him once more on the cheek before allowing the orderly to lead her out.

Greg lay back against his pillow, brow furrowing in confusion as he pondered everything. Grissom sat on the edge of the bed and asked quietly, "Well?"

"Why am I her hero?" asked Greg, just as quietly. "Why me, of all people?"

"Why are any of our heroes our heroes?" returned Grissom.

"But why me, of all the CSIs? Why not the police who brought her father in? Why not you?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not worthy of it."

"Who is?"

Greg sighed and looked down. "I shouldn't be a hero. I don't deserve it."

"Greg, you are a hero to so many people, some who you have never and will never meet. You are a hero, even an unknown one, to every person who was a potential victim of every serial killer and rapist you helped lock up. You are a hero to the victims and their families. It's like what Joseph Campbell said. 'A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself...' That's what you've done, Greg. It's what you do everyday."

He let Greg digest this for a minute before asking, "Will you come back?"

"I want to, but I don't know how."

"Well, for starters, do something with your hair. Now I know why you gel it; it looks ridiculous otherwise. I'm half-tempted to cut it off!"

"You wouldn't dare!" cried Greg in mock-terror, reaching for the hair gel on his bedside table.

"And here," continued Grissom, "put something respectable on!" He tossed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on Greg's bed.

Greg laughed aloud, then headed toward the bathroom. He paused, then turned back to Grissom, saying, "Thanks, Griss." He looked Grissom in the eyes. "Thanks for everything." He disappeared into the bathroom.

Grissom smiled, thinking, It was all worth it, Greggo, just to see the light back in your eyes.

* * *

_**A/N:** The end part about the hair is not a dig at Eric Szmanda's current hair, which I actually kind of like. _


	13. Somewhere I Belong

_**A/N:** Well, after a brief glimpse of happiness in the beginning, this chapter returns to the plunge of angst. I just can't seem to find ways to stop torturing poor Greggo. Actually, it's not really towards the end that it gets back to angst. In any case, usual disclaimer. Oh, and a shout out to all the _**wonderful**_ people that have reviewed. I love you all! And on with the show…_

Chapter 13- Somewhere I Belong

"When this began

I had nothing to say

And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me

I was confused

And I let it all out to find

That I'm not the only person with these things in mind

Inside of me

But although they can see the words revealed

It's the only real thing that I've got left to feel

Nothing to lose

Just stuck, hollow and alone

And the fault is my own

And the fault is my own

I want to heal

I want to feel

What I thought was never real

I want to let go of the pain I felt so long

Erase all the pain til it's gone

I want to heal

I want to feel

Like I'm close to something real

I want to find something I've wanted all along

Somewhere I belong"

Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park

Greg took a deep breath of fresh air as he was wheeled out of the hospital. Finally, FINALLY, he was leaving. Not going home, though. Not yet. Grissom had asked him yesterday if he wanted to go home or stay with him. Greg knew that it was irrational of him to be afraid of being alone, but... In any case, he had accepted Grissom's offer and would be staying at his place. Grissom was taking the week off, since Greg couldn't go back to work for another week, and they would be spending some "quality time" together. The thought of quality time with Grissom would've made Greg laugh only a few weeks ago, but now, the thought terrified him. What would they talk about? What would they do? Sit there and stare at each other? Greg could imagine Grissom looking at him the way he looked at a bug he was about to stick with a pin, and had to suppress a shudder.

Then Grissom was next to him, talking to him, and Greg shook his head quickly to clear it of his thoughts. "Sorry, Griss, what?"

Grissom looked down at him and repeated, "I wanted to know if you wanted pizza or Chinese for dinner tonight. I figured I wouldn't subject you to the horrors of my cooking just yet."

Greg grinned and said, "Pizza, definitely." Right on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

"Pizza it is!" said Grissom, watching as two orderlies helped Greg into the car. With some struggling and a lot of muttered swearing on Greg's part ("Damn the hospital and their goddamn regulations."), he was finally situated in the front seat of Grissom's Tahoe. Grissom climbed in on the driver's side, and they pulled away from the hospital, Greg breathing a mental sigh of relief.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Greg shooting small glances at Grissom every so often. The silence was getting to him. Unable to take it, he automatically reached for the radio, pushing the power button. The delicate strains of Chopin filled the SUV and Greg winced. While he could appreciate classical music, though he was really more of a Sammartini fan, all he wanted to listen to was something loud. And preferably angry. He fiddled with the dial, relaxing as he heard the beginning bass of Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train.

Now it was Grissom's turn to wince, and he quickly turned it down, throwing Greg a look while he did so.

Greg didn't meet his eyes, abashed, and when he looked up, he was surprised to see Grissom smiling at him. "What?" asked Greg, vaguely wondering if Grissom had finally lost it. He hoped not; he had twenty bucks riding on Grissom not losing his sanity for another couple of years.

Grissom grinned even wider. "You're back," he said simply.

Greg ducked his head and blushed slightly. "I never really left, you know," he said mildly. "I just went away for awhile."

"I know, Greg, I know."

* * *

That evening, Greg and Grissom sat on Grissom's couch, empty beer bottles and pizza crusts being the only remnants of dinner. Greg yawned as the movie ended, stretching. "I can't believe you've never seen Fight Club before," he commented, battling another yawn.

Grissom raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well, now I have you to introduce me to the finer things in life."

Greg glared at him and whacked him with a pillow. "It was a good movie! You have to admit that."

Grissom shrugged noncommittally. "It was a good exposé about the inner workings of a schizophrenic, yes, but movie-wise…" This earned him another whack from Greg's pillow. "Ow! Is that really necessary?"

Greg paused in mid-swing. "Necessary? No. Hilarious? Yes." He brought the pillow down with a resounding THUMP on Grissom's head, laughing as Grissom's face turned redder and redder. "Hey, Boss," he said conversationally, casually distancing himself from Grissom. "Have I ever told you that your face turns the most remarkable shade of puce when you're angry?"

This was the final straw. With a barbaric yell somewhere between a sports fan's cheering and a war cry, Grissom grabbed a pillow and began to chase Greg around the room, whacking at him every chance he could.

"Ow! Boss—ow—this—yowch—really—ow—isn't—ouch—going—ow!—to improve—ouch, watch it!—our—yow—employer-employee—ow!—relationship!" yelled Greg as he attempted to dodge Grissom's attacks. Grissom's only response was to increase the ferocity of the attacks.

The fight ended when Grissom tripped over a cord and broke a lamp. "Whoops!" said Greg with a cheeky grin.

Grissom glared at him, but then just shook his head and picked up the shards. "Hey, Greg" he asked. "Are you taking the couch or the bed?"

Greg raised his eyebrows. "I'm not kicking you out of bed, Griss," he said, calmly yet firmly. "It's bad enough that I'm imposing upon you for a week."

Grissom didn't bother trying to argue; he simply went and got an extra blanket for Greg. They said their goodnights and headed to bed.

* * *

Grissom slept well, though he hadn't thought he was going to. He was so used to working nights that he had almost become nocturnal. He woke up at six, fairly late considering, and sat up. He was in mid-stretch when he realized that there was someone else in his bed. Grissom jumped. "What the…" he muttered, leaning over to see who the hell was in his bed, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Greg.

He stood then, about to go make some coffee, when he realized that Greg shouldn't be in his bed. He looked back at the sleeping man, looking for all the world like a child as he slept. He was curled on one side of the bed, hair sticking out at crazy angles. Grissom wondered vaguely why Greg had decided to come in, but decided it didn't really matter, as long as Greg felt safe.

He wondered then why he hadn't felt Greg climb into bed, but then he noticed how thin Greg had become. His brow furrowed slightly, looking at the bit of skin that was exposed due to Greg's shirt being pulled up slightly in his sleep. Greg's hipbone jutted out, impossibly sharp, and Grissom could clearly see his ribs beneath Greg's taut skin. Obviously, despite the gargantuan amount of food consumed the previous night, Greg still wasn't eating well. Or sleeping well, for that matter, added Grissom to himself, shaking his head slightly as he watched Greg sleep. He felt a little voice nagging in the back of his mind that maybe Greg was sick, and maybe the hospital missed something. "He'll be fine," he said aloud to quell those fears. "He just needs time."

With a final look at Greg, he padded out of the room. He'd make some coffee, and then make some breakfast.

* * *

Greg awoke slowly, his eyelids fluttering as he yawned widely. Sitting up, he opened his eyes all the way to find himself in a strange room. "Where am I?" he mused aloud.

"In my bedroom, sitting on my bed," answered Grissom, a hint of amusement present in his voice.

Greg sat straight up, eyes wide. "Holy shit, Grissom!" he exclaimed. "You scared the crap out of me!" Grissom almost fell off his chair, he was laughing so hard. Greg glared at him sulkily. "It's not funny," he complained, wrapping his arms around his knees like a five-year-old. "You almost gave me a coronary." Grissom stopped laughing, but nothing could wipe the self-satisfied smirk off of his face. "God, Grissom," reiterated Greg, feeling his heart still beating a frantic tattoo against his chest. "What the hell were you watching me for, anyway?"

Grissom looked insulted. "I wasn't watching you. I came in to wake you up and tell you that breakfast's ready."

"You made breakfast?" asked Greg incredulously, looking excited. "Did you make pancakes?"

"Of course," said Grissom, raising one eyebrow at Greg's enthusiasm.

"Yes!" cried Greg, leaping off the bed and practically running to the kitchen.

Grissom chuckled and followed Greg at a much more sedated pace, then stopped, amused at the sight that met him in the kitchen. Greg sat Indian-style on one of the chairs, the plate in front of him heaped with so much food it looked as if he hadn't eaten in years.

Greg looked up and gave Grissom a grin while chewing. "Grea' foo', Griss," he managed around the masses of food in his mouth.

"I'm glad you like it," answered Grissom, smiling. Greg didn't respond because he had just shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. "Hey, Greg, slow down a little, ok? I don't want to have to go back to the hospital anytime soon."

Greg swallowed and looked embarrassed. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's ok, I'm glad you're feeling better, just…little bites, m'kay?"

Greg nodded and took a purposely tiny amount of pancake and ate slowly, measuring each chew. "Better?" he asked once he had finished.

Grissom just shook his head. "Greg, you're hopeless."

"I know," said Greg philosophically. "It's part of my charm."

"Charm? I'm not sure I would call it that."

Greg crossed his eyes at Grissom and returned to his food. Grissom grabbed a plate and joined him, tucking in to the spread of breakfast foods.

* * *

Greg looked down at his hands, expression serious, his eyebrows drawn in concentration. "Gin…" he said slowly, laying the cards down. "I think."

Grissom groaned loudly. "Good Lord, Greg, I haven't won a hand since I taught you this stupid card game!" he complained, tossing his cards on the table and rubbing his temples.

"That's not my fault!" said Greg defensively as he sipped his beer. "I'm a fast learner."

"Or you're just lucky," muttered Grissom, taking a deep gulp of his beer.

"Well, that too," added Greg.

Grissom glared at him before draining his beer and standing up. "C'mon, Greggo, time for bed."

Greg pouted. "One more hand?" he asked, brown eyes pleading. They were met by impermeable blue steel. "Alright, I'm coming," he sighed, picking up the cards slowly before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After he and Grissom had gotten ready, they exchanged goodnights and headed to their respective beds.

Grissom lay in his bed with the light still on, flipping through the most recent issue of one of his many entomology magazines. It was about an hour later that he heard it, a sound akin to a wounded animal's moans. "Greg?" he called, setting his magazine aside. "Is that you?"

The whimpering stopped, then began anew, this time louder. Grissom got up and quickly made his way into the living room, snapping on lights as he went.

Greg lay on his back, rigid, hands held up as if to try and protect himself. Eyes screwed shut, he was whimpering, "No, please, don't hurt me. Don't do it again, please, please!" His frantic whispers grew to panicked screams. "No! Stop! No, please! Don't…no, DON'T!" He flailed wildly, almost hurting himself.

For the first time, Grissom was frightened of him. "Greg!" he yelled over Greg's screams. "Greg, stop, you're having a nightmare! Greg!" With this, he reached out and grabbed Greg's shoulder. Greg's eyes flew open and he gave a blood-curdling scream before viciously attacking Grissom with his feet and fists. "Greg!" cried Grissom in alarm as he fought off the younger man's assault. "Greg, it's me! It's Grissom!"

Greg stopped. "Grissom?" he asked, more of a sob than a question.

"Yeah, I'm here," whispered Grissom. He sat down next to him to try and soothe him and was quite startled when Greg started bawling. He timidly put his arms around Greg, letting him cry on his shoulder, just holding him as he cried it out. "Shh…it's ok," Grissom comforted, his mind reeling. When Greg's sobs had quieted, Grissom patted him gently on the back. "Better?" he asked.

Greg didn't answer, just murmured, "Daddy…" before falling asleep again.

Grissom sighed and looked down at the sleeping boy. "Poor Greg," he whispered aloud. Shaking his head sadly, he carefully lifted the sleeping man and carried him to the bed. Even though he thought it was odd to be sharing a bed with a man, Grissom knew that Greg needed him, and he planned to be there when Greg woke up.

* * *

As it turned out, Grissom slept through Greg's awakening. By the time Grissom woke up, Greg had already showered and made breakfast. Grissom got out of bed and joined Greg in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Greg already had one, his slim fingers wrapped around the porcelain mug so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "So…" began Grissom, unsure what to say.

"Um…sorry about last night," muttered Greg, not meeting Grissom's eyes.

Sighing, Grissom set his mug down and said gently, "You don't have anything to apologize for, Greg. It's ok."

Greg shook his head emphatically. "No, it wasn't, it was…I dunno, out of line or something. I'll understand if you want me to leave or whatever." He still wouldn't look at Grissom.

"Greg, look at me," commanded Grissom softly. Greg did, albeit reluctantly, and Grissom continued. "You're not going anywhere, and neither am I." Greg nodded slowly in relief and some other unidentifiable emotion.

"Greg?" asked Grissom as he sat down at the table. "What's the story with your dad?"

Greg froze, eyes taking on a fearful look. "Oh, it's nothing," he said casually, setting his mug in the sink.

"Greg…" said Grissom warningly. "I'm not a CSI for nothing. I know you're lying. Tell me what happened, please."

Greg swallowed hard and sat down too. He stared at his folded hands for a long time before starting. "My dad…he died when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry," said Grissom automatically, wincing at how pathetic and fake the words sounded.

"No, he…he wasn't a good dad," said Greg lamely, obviously unable to say what he wanted to.

Grissom stomach clenched and he asked slowly, fearing the answer, "Greg, did he…were you abused?" Greg nodded, fighting back tears. "Oh, God," whispered Grissom. "Come here." He wrapped Greg in a hug, holding him for the second time as he cried. When his tears subsided this time, Grissom questioned quietly, "For how long?"

"Years," whispered Greg, the haunted look still in his eyes. "Since I was four."

"My God, Greg," said Grissom sadly. "No one should have to go through that."

"I know," said Greg, smiling crookedly. "It's just…" He broke off, shooting a tentative look at Grissom and only continuing when Grissom indicated that he should. "Well, I never really had any parents. My mom died before my dad started doing what he did, and well…I obviously never really had a father…you know, someone you can count on and trust…someone who…who loves you. It's…it's the one thing I've always wanted."

He looked so broken sitting there that Grissom had to protest. "You have got someone who you can trust and count on! And who loves you." Greg looked up, confused. "Well…you've got me," continued Grissom.

"Yeah," said Greg with a small smile. "Yeah, I guess I do."

* * *

_**A/N(part deux): **So the whole abuse thing will be explored in greater depths later on. And Sandle will be playing a greater part coming up in all of the next…um…37 chapters. Anyways… _


	14. The Reason Part 2

_**A/N:** Ah, yet another chapter. Usual disclaimer still applies, because if it didn't, things would be quite different on the show. But alas, that is not meant to be…shame. But anyways…angsty in the beginning…and the middle…but at the end, it gets lighter. So yeah._

Chapter 14- The Reason (Part 2)

"I found a reason for me

To change who I used to be

A reason to start over new

And the reason is you

I found a reason to show

A side of me you didn't know

A reason for all that I do

And the reason is you"

The Reason by Hoobastank

Greg sat in his car, staring at the steering wheel, and contemplated not going in. He could just stay there for the entire shift. Grissom would understand. He had told Greg that he didn't have to come back today, that he could wait another week or longer if it became necessary, but Greg had insisted that he needed to go back. This was the truth; he did need to, because Grissom was driving him crazy. Well, not Grissom himself, but the monotony and boredom of being at Grissom's house. Hence why Greg was returning to his apartment after work, instead of going back to Grissom's. They both knew that it was time, and that Greg needed to do this, to face being alone. Grissom had promised that he would only ever be a phone call away, but Greg still had to get through work. Well, actually, he had to get to work, but something in him rebelled against going by the place he was taken at. He sighed and looked at the clock. At this rate, he was going to be late to his first day back on the job.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the passenger side door. Startled, he glanced over and was surprised to see Grissom leaning against his car. He unlocked the door and Grissom sat down, closing the door after him. They sat in silence for a little while.

"You know," said Grissom quietly after awhile, "that evidence won't process itself."

Greg looked at him and smiled weakly. "I know, it's just…hard, you know? Being back."

"Yeah, I know. But you're not alone, Greg. We're here to help."

Greg blinked in surprise. "I thought we agreed I should do this on my own."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to abandon you if you need me." He paused, then said gently, "That's what families do, Greg. They help each other." Greg nodded slowly. "You ready, then?" asked Grissom with a touch of his old impatience.

Greg nodded again and they got out of the car and headed towards the door. As they approached the approximate spot where Greg was taken at, he froze.

Grissom saw this and took Greg's arm gently. "C'mon, Greg," he encouraged quietly. "One step at a time."

Slowly, step-by-step, they made it through the door. Greg released a big breath he didn't even know he had been holding. Grissom didn't say anything, just squeezed Greg's shoulder in gentle congratulations.

All of a sudden, the pair was surrounded by the smiling faces of the night shift. Everyone was there, Nick, Sara, Warrick, Catherine, Doc Robbins, everyone. Even the receptionists, who Greg was positive he had never spoken to in his life, were there. They all surged forward to hug Greg at once.

Involuntarily, he flinched as the bodies pressed toward him. Grissom, seeing this, called, "Hey, one at a time, alright?"

Everyone stopped pushing and hung back, slightly abashed, until Catherine stepped forward and wrapped Greg in a gentle hug. "Welcome back," she whispered in his ear.

Warrick was next; he gripped Greg in a one-armed hug. "Glad you're back, Bro," he said, stepping back to allow the others through. Archie, Doc and David, his assistant, also gave Greg hugs, while Hodges declined, choosing instead to shake Greg's hand. The receptionists gave him hugs, and then it was Nick's turn. He just looked at Greg, shook his head, and walked away.

"Nick!" shouted Greg after him, brow furrowed in confusion. Not only had Nick visited him least in the hospital, but now this.

Sara grabbed his arm and said quietly, "Give him a few minutes, then go talk to him, ok?"

Greg looked at her, hurt evident in his eyes. "You know what this is about, don't you?" he asked.

She shook her head hesitantly. "No…but I can guess. Look, just…go talk to him, ok?"

Greg nodded and took off down the hall, wondering where Nick might've gone. He paused as he noticed that the door to the roof was slightly ajar. Pushing it open all the way, he clambered up the stairs, quietly opening the door at the top and stepped out onto the roof.

There was Nick, just a black silhouette against the fading red Nevada sun. The dry desert wind gently blew through his clothes and tussled his short hair.

Greg didn't say anything, just went and stood next to him. Nick blinked slowly, then said calmly, "Well, here we are, Greg. So tell me, do you want to jump?"

The question caught Greg off-guard. "What?"

"Do you want to jump off this roof? Cuz I'd help you, if you ask. I already helped you last time you tried to kill yourself."

Greg was beyond confused. "You didn't help me…I…it was…"

"It was my knife," hissed Nick, whirling around to face him, unshed tears glinting in his eyes. "My knife that you used to slice through your skin. My knife that almost ended your life. My knife…" He broke down crying, and it was the tears that scared Greg more than the anger. "God, Greg," whispered Nick. "Why my knife? Was it some kind of not-so-subtle message aimed at me or something? Or…"

"No." Greg's voice cut him off, sharper than he had intended. He softened it and said again, "No."

"Then…?" Nick didn't need to finish the question.

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't know," he said quietly.

"Didn't know what?"

"I didn't know it was your knife. When I found it, I…well, I wasn't thinking clearly. I just wanted it all to end. I…I thought you were dead."

"What?" asked Nick, confused.

"I kept seeing these images in my head, and they were always of you guys. All of you were dead. You…you kept telling me it was my fault…that…that I should just kill myself." He held up a hand as Nick started to protest. "I know you didn't say that, that you would never say that, but at the time, I thought it was real. I thought…I thought you hated me," he whispered miserably, staring at his feet.

"Greggo, I could never hate you," said Nick gently. "Even when you tried to kill yourself, I didn't hate you. I hated myself… I thought it was my fault, that I should be blamed."

"Nicky, how could anyone blame you? Blame me! I have to live everyday with the fact that at a weak moment, I tried to end my own life."

Nick just shook his head. Greg grabbed his arm and said loudly, "Nick, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!" He hugged Nick, hard, trying to make him see that he couldn't blame himself.

Nick hugged him back with bone-crushing strength. They broke apart and Greg asked, "So…are we cool?"

Nick laughed, wiping tears off of his cheeks. "Yeah, man, we're cool. Now let's get back, or Grissom'll have our hides."

The pair of once-again friends clattered down the stairs, each very glad to be friends again.

* * *

Sara heard music, if you could call it that. Pounding bass combined with screaming guitars in a jumble of sounds at a decibel level painful to human ears. She stood, a small smile playing on her lips. She had missed the sound of Greg's music. She strode to his lab, poking her head in the door, both amused and slightly terrified by the sight she saw.

He was dancing around the room in a vague style that resembled a mix between ballet, the cha-cha, and a mosh pit. He had declined to wear a lab coat, leaving it draped over a chair. Instead, he was wearing an old, black concert t-shirt from some band she had never heard of, and a loose-fitting pair of jeans barely held on his thin frame by a worn black leather belt.

As she watched, his scuffed Converse shoes began doing what appeared to be a perversion of The Lord of the Dance to the music blasting from the stereo's speakers. Now he was singing to the music, using a test tube as a microphone and shaking his rear suggestively as he sashayed around the room.

Luckily, he stopped when the computer gave off a series of high-pitched beeps. Rushing over to it, he clicked on something, then did a short victory jig, whooping aloud as he did so. He pushed print, twirled in a delicate pirouette and stopped in a most comical position when he saw her leaning on the door. "Uh…Sara…did you need something?" he asked, attempting nonchalance, and failing miserably.

She hid a grin. "You're really back."

He smiled at her gently. "I never left."

"What made you decide to stay?"

Greg grinned, his eyes taking on a far-away look. "Let's just say that I had some help getting a different view on what I do." His eyes moved to the picture of him and Nicola he had taped on the wall.

"Nicola?" asked Sara, raising an eyebrow.

Greg nodded with a small smile. "She helped me see that what I do matters."

Sara eyes softened and she said gently, "Greg, we all think that what you do matters."

"I know, but at the time, I couldn't see it."

Sara suddenly grew serious and she started, "Greg, we need to talk…", but at that moment, her beeper went off. "Greg, that's Grissom, I gotta go. We'll talk later, ok?"

He nodded, turning his music up louder as she left.

* * *

_**A/N: **I realize the description of Greg's dancing has really no plot value whatsoever, but I wanted to bring back a taste of the Greg we know and love. Oh, and I don't own The Lord of the Dance. But I did go see it once. _


	15. Iris Part 1

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer, but the added warning of mentions of child abuse. I was going to say that this chapter started out happy and got progressively less happy, but I realized that that's a blatant lie. This is not a happy chapter. And for that I apologize. However, here she goes…_

Chapter 15- Iris Part 1

"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me

Cuz I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am"

Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Greg stood at the doorway to his apartment, almost afraid to go in, to try and live the life he used to. He shook his head, then smiled at how ridiculous he was being. He put his key in the lock and opened the door, breathing in the scent of his apartment. It was slightly musty, and quite rightly so, since no person had been in here since his kidnapping. Well, Grissom had, for the necessities, but Grissom hadn't thought to open any windows. Greg did so, opening the blinds and curtains to reveal the dark night. He looked around then. Despite the bright colors on the walls and odd, mismatched patterns on the furniture, the rooms seemed empty and dark, and an abiding sense of loneliness filled the house. Greg shivered. The loneliness was getting to him. He thought for a second, then crossed to the phone. He was pretty sure Marc still owed him a favor…

* * *

Sara paused idly before the door, unsure whether to continue or not. Steeling herself, she knocked briskly on the door, then turned to look out at the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. She had wanted to come over when she got off at 3, but decided to wait a few hours. Now, here she was, four-thirty in the morning, completely unsure what to do or say, only know that she should be here for Greg.

All of a sudden, she heard deep barking from inside the apartment. She was startled by this. She didn't know Greg had a dog. She heard muffled swears, and then found herself being pounced on by something huge and gray when Greg opened the door.

"Down, Shadow!" called Greg urgently. "God, Sara, I'm sorry! Shadow, get down!" He finally managed to drag the massive beast off her. "Sorry about that. Shadow's kinda excitable."

He gestured for her to come in, shutting the door after her. Sara sat down on the couch and Shadow came and sat, too, laying his head in her lap.

Bemused, Sara looked from the dog to Greg, who was shuffling around the kitchen in his boxers, making coffee. "I didn't know you had a dog."

Greg looked up and smiled. "I didn't. I got him earlier tonight. My friend Marc from Animal Control owed me a favor, so I had him hook me up with a nocturnal dog." He shrugged nonchalantly as if this were the most natural thing in the world, and then turned back to the coffee.

Sara looked down at the gray monstrosity of fur that was currently drooling in her lap. Despite this and the fact that the dog had tried to decapitate her, Sara had to admit that Shadow was kind of cute. She absentmindedly stroked his head, asking Greg, "Why'd you want a dog, anyway?"

Greg shrugged, bringing two cups of coffee into the living room. "I was lonely." He handed one mug to Sara, sipping from the other. Sara sniffed at the coffee cautiously. "Don't worry, it's decaf, I know some of us have to sleep." Sara smiled at him in wordless thanks, and drank deeply. Greg settled on the armchair across from her and asked, "So, what's up, Sara?"

She shrugged, embarrassed about being there, wanting to ask the questions she wanted to ask. Seeing her discomfort, Greg stood and went over to her, sitting down beside her. "Hey, it's ok, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly, tucking a lock of Sara's hair behind her ear in an absentminded gesture of comfort. She almost started crying at that, that small gesture. Greg took Sara's hands in his and asked gently, "Sara, what's going on?"

Now, with this, she did cry. "Goddamnit, Greg, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around!" she said angrily, wiping the tears away half-heartedly with one hand.

Greg touched her shoulder gently. "Sara, I'm ok. For once, perhaps for the first time since this whole thing, I am ok. But you're not, and I want to help make you ok, the way you always make me feel better."

Sara sighed, then said quietly, "Greg, I can't stop thinking about it." At his confused glance, she elaborated. "About your…your suicide attempt." Greg looked down and swallowed, hard. Sara hurried to continue, to try and explain. "It's just that we almost lost you. You almost took yourself away permanently. You…you have no idea how hard it was for me…for all of us…wondering if you were dead, praying you were alive…and then, just when we found you…it was like losing you all over again." Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to make him see, to make him understand.

"I'm sorry, Sara. It…it was hell. I kept seeing things…horrible things…I saw all of you." He paused, his face reflecting the horror, the pain evident in his eyes. "You were dead. You said that I had killed you, that it was my fault…" He fell silent, unable to continue, tears welling in his brown eyes. They pleaded with hers, asking her to forgive him.

She wasn't finished, however. "But Greg, why suicide? What made you think of suicide?"

Greg blew out a breath, frustrated. He stood and paced around the small room, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I should tell you," he began, "this wasn't the first time I tried to kill myself. I came closer this time."

Sara stared at him, mouth agape. "You tried before? When? Why?"

He sighed again and sat, unable to keep pacing. "I was twelve. No, that's a bad place to start, let's back up. When I was four, my mom died. Breast cancer, they found it too late. After her death, my dad…well, he was never the same. He…he used to sit and stare at me for hours one end while I played with my toys or whatever. Then, it started." He broke off, unsure if he really needed to elaborate. He closed his eyes, remembering. "He would come in at night, every night. He…he touched me. If I tried to stop him, or scream or something, he would beat me. Then…" Greg swallowed hard before starting then next part. "He started drinking. So he touched me more, and beat me more. He told me it was my fault, that I was bad and I deserved it." He paused again and stared off into space. "He told me he'd kill me if I told anyone." Tears came to Greg's eyes as he remembered what happened next. "Then, on the night of my twelfth birthday, he…he…"

"Oh, Greg," whispered Sara in pure horror. "Did he rape you?" Greg just looked up at her, the pain in his face giving it away. She wanted to reach out and hug him, to take him in her arms and comfort him, but it was as if he was miles away instead of a few feet.

Greg blinked once, twice, then finished in a hollow, dead voice. "After…afterwards, I just lay on my bed and cried. I felt so…so violated. I stumbled into the bathroom and began taking pills, any pills I could find. The next thing I knew I was in the hospital, puking up my entire stomach. The police came in to talk to me after that day. My dad was dead…he had been driving drunk and crashed into a telephone pole. They told me…" His face twisted in a sardonic smile that wasn't reflected in his eyes. "They told me he probably died instantly, and I remember I couldn't help but be disappointed that his death wasn't long and drawn out. They wanted to put me in counseling, but since I had to go live with my grandpa on the other side of the country, I never went. And I never told anybody what he did to me."

Silence fell once Greg finished his tragic tale. Sara scrambled for something to say, unable to come up with a witty conjecture. Greg smiled sadly. "Don't all talk at once, now."

Sara tried to smile at his attempt at levity, but couldn't bring herself to. When she thought of how emotionally scarred he must be… "So…" she said slowly. "What Bruno did to you must've brought back horrible memories." Greg looked at her, no longer the goofy, over-confident lab tech, but just a scared little boy.

"Oh, Greg," she sighed, standing up and enveloping him in a hug. "That should've never happened to you. I wish you hadn't have had to go through that." He gripped her tightly and she held him just as tightly, almost afraid to let him go. "No one will hurt you anymore," she whispered. "I promise."


	16. Iris Part 2

_**A/N: **Another chapter, full of…well, I wouldn't say sadness, per se, but definitely angst. Usual disclaimer, and I'm sorry this chapter's so short! _

Chapter 16- Iris Part 2

"And I'd give up forever to touch you

Cuz I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your light

But sooner or later it's over

I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me

Cuz I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am"

Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Sara awoke slowly, her mind reeling as she tried to identify the strange room. The sheets next to her moved and Greg sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Suddenly, Sara remembered. After talking well into the morning, they had decided to take a nap. Greg had insisted that he'd take the couch, but she had insisted he needed the bed, so in the end they had decided to share it.

Greg smiled at her. "Never thought I'd be waking up with you next to me."

Sara blushed, then stammered, "It…we…I mean…"

Greg laughed. "Don't worry, I understand. Sorry, I guess I kinda killed the moment, huh?"

Sara shrugged as she shook out her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. "I've had guys say worse things in bed."

"It's just…" Greg started, then stopped.

"What?" prodded Sara.

"Well, I've never had a girl in my bed before," said Greg, blushing deeply and not meeting her eyes.

Her mouth dropped open and, before she could stop herself, she exclaimed, "You've never slept with a girl?" He shrugged and nodded. "But…but you told me you lost your virginity when you were twenty-two," she said, trying not to sound accusing.

He shrugged again. "I lied."

"Why?" she asked. "Why would you lie to me?" She looked at him for a half a second and said, "I really can't believe you haven't had sex."

Smiling bitterly in an attempt to make the situation lighter, Greg said quietly, "Sorry, being ass-raped by your father can do that to a guy."

Looking as if she had been slapped in the face, Sara stood to leave. "Wait, I'm sorry," said Greg, reaching out a hand to stop her. She stopped and looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"God, I'm an idiot. It's all so new to me, you know?" he said quietly, idly tracing the sheets with his finger. "I've never told anyone except for you, and, well, Grissom guessed it, but, well…I don't know what to say or do."

Sitting back down on the bed, Sara took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Greg, you don't have to say or do anything. Just be yourself, because…" She trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought.

"Because why?" prompted Greg, raising an eyebrow at her.

Much to her embarrassment, she blushed, then to try to cover for it, she stammered quickly, "I have to go."

"Sara!" he called, standing and going after her as she fled the room. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "Sara."

She whirled around, glaring at him. "What do you want from me, Greg?"

He stared at her for just a second before kissing her, deeply and passionately, the fire of the moment erupting in their kiss. It was not a sweet kiss; it was a hard, demanding, angry kiss. When it was done, they broke apart, but barely moved more than a few inches apart.

"Because why?" repeated Greg, his dark eyes searching hers.

"Because…" she started, staring up at him. "Because I love you just the way you are."

Greg grinned. "You love me? Really?" He leaned in to kiss her again, but she placed her fingers over his mouth.

"Greg…we can't. I can't."

He pulled away, frowning slightly. "But…"

She cut him off. "Greg, we can't have a relationship. We just…can't."

Hurt flashed deep in his eyes, and he nodded, slowly. "Fine," he said shortly.

He turned to leave, but paused when Sara spoke. "Greg…" He half-turned. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said quietly, turning away again. "Me too."

* * *

_**A/N:** Aw, poor Greggo! Why doesn't anything ever go right for him? But fear not, he may have a trick or two up his sleeve..._


	17. An Innocent Man

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer. Not altogether a whole lot to say about this chappie…um…song is _An Innocent Man_ by Billy Joel. Oh, and I love how all I have to do is hint about the end of Sandle and I get four indignant reviews! Tee-hee. I love all you guys, though, and thanks for reviewing. That's about it…enjoy!_

Chapter 17- An Innocent Man

Sara sat in the break room staring sullenly at the wall. She glanced aimlessly at the clock and sighed. Only ten more minutes til shift started.

A knock sounded at the door and Nick came in, forehead creased in concern. "Hey, are you ok?" he asked. Sara sighed again and shrugged dismissively. Nick frowned, but shrugged as well. "Alright, well…"

Sara stood abruptly. "Did you need anything else?" she asked, stony-faced.

"Yeah, this just came for you." He handed her a package. Long and slim, it had no paper or return address, only the words "Sara Sidle" written on it in green ink.

She carefully opened the box and was surprised by its contents. The only thing in it was a long-stem red rose with a small card attached.

"Oo, Sara!" laughed Nick. "What's the card say?"

She lifted it up and read it aloud.

"Sara-- Look in your desk."

Sharing a glance with Nick, Sara rushed to her desk and stared in amazement. Hundreds of rose petals were scattered over it and a CD was nestled in the middle. She picked it up and read the writing on it.

"Sara-- Just listen."

Thoroughly confused, Sara went to go find Archie. "Hey, Archie, can you play this for me?" she asked, holding up the CD.

"Sure," said Archie with a shrug. "Pop it in."

She did and waited while he cued it up. It was a song she vaguely recognized.

"Some people stay far away from the door  
If there's a chance of it opening up  
They hear a voice in the hall outside  
And hope that it just passes by

Some people live with the fear of a touch  
And the anger of having been a fool  
They will not listen to anyone  
So nobody tells them a lie

I know you're only protecting yourself  
I know you're thinking of somebody else  
Someone who hurt you  
But I'm not above  
Making up for the love  
You've been denying you could ever feel  
I'm not above doing anything  
To restore your faith if I can

Some people see through the eyes of the old  
Before they ever get a look at the young  
I'm only willing to hear you cry  
Because I am an innocent man

I am an innocent man  
Oh yes I am

Some people say they will never believe  
Another promise they hear in the dark  
Because they only remember too well  
They heard somebody tell them before

Some people sleep all alone every night  
Instead of taking a lover to bed  
Some people find that it's easier to hate  
Than to wait anymore

I know you don't want to hear what I say  
I know you're gonna keep turning away  
But I've been there and if I can survive  
I can keep you alive  
I'm not above going through it again  
I'm not above being cool for a while  
If you're cruel to me I'll understand

Some people run from a possible fight  
Some people figure they can never win  
And although this is a fight I can lose  
The accused is an innocent man

I am an innocent man  
Oh yes I am  
An innocent man

You know you only hurt yourself out of spite  
I guess you'd rather be a martyr tonight  
That's your decision  
But I'm not below  
Anybody I know  
If there's a chance of resurrecting a love  
I'm not above going back to the start  
To find out where the heartache began

Some people hope for a miracle cure  
Some people just accept the world as it is  
But I'm not willing to lay down and die  
Because I am an innocent man

I am an innocent man  
Oh yes I am  
An innocent man"

Sara sat in shock as the song ended. She knew, of course, whom it was from, and it amazed her that he'd care so much. Tears welled in her eyes and she set her jaw determinedly. She knew what to do.


	18. Maybe I'm Amazed

**_A/N:_**_ So, another chapter. Usual disclaimer, though while I'm at it I might as well rate this one for sappiness. All y'all better be happy with the relative happiness of this chapter. Anyways, song is _Maybe I'm Amazed_ by Jem (the tune is, of course, originally by Paul McCartney, but that's neither here nor there). Enjoy!_

Chapter 18- Maybe I'm Amazed

Greg walked into the lab and gave the piles of evidence waiting to be processed a withering glance. He sighed and picked up the first envelope. It was Sara's evidence. He opened the envelope and was surprised to find a CD inside. He pulled it out carefully and read what was written on it.

"Greg-- Just listen."

He half-smiled and took it to the A/V lab. Archie took one look at him and groaned, "Not you too!"

Greg grinned good-naturedly and asked, "May I?"

"I guess…" said Archie resignedly.

The song started, the gentle chords tinkling through the lab.

"Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time  
Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time  
And hung me on a line  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you

Maybe I'm a girl, maybe I'm a lonely girl  
Who's in the middle of something  
That she doesn't really understand  
Maybe I'm a girl and maybe you're the only man  
Who could ever help me  
Baby won't you help me understand

Maybe I'm a girl, maybe I'm a lonely girl  
Who's in the middle of something  
That she doesn't really understand  
Maybe I'm a girl and maybe you're the only man  
Who could ever help me  
Baby won't you help me understand

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time  
Maybe I'm afraid of the way I need you  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song  
And hide me when I'm wrong  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really love you

Maybe I'm a girl, maybe I'm a lonely girlWho's in the middle of something  
That she doesn't really understand  
Maybe I'm a girl and maybe you're the only man  
Who could ever help me  
Baby won't you help me understand"

Greg couldn't help but grin even as he felt the tears prickle in his eyes. He practically ran from the lab, almost running into Nick on the way. "Hey, where's Sara?"

"Break room, I think," said Nick, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"No reason!" called Greg over his shoulder as he ran off towards the break room. There she was, sitting inside, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands, looking nervous. Greg opened the door, crossed the room in three strides, lifted Sara up from her chair and kissed her deeply, in front of God, the world, and everyone else. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.

Nick stood next to Grissom, watching the pair. "Well," said Nick, draining his coffee. "That was unexpected."

"What was unexpected?" asked Catherine as she joined them, Warrick in tow. She stopped when she saw what was taking place in the break room.

Grissom smiled. "I don't think it was unexpected. I think it was inevitable."


	19. First Date

**_A/N:_**_ Only this chapter and the next of sugary goodness before the story takes a dramtic turn. Usual disclaimer. Er...not much else to say...enjoy!_  


Chapter 19- First Date

"In the car, I just can't wait  
To pick you up on our very first date  
Is it cool if I hold your hand?  
Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?  
Do you like my stupid hair?  
Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?  
I'm just scared of what you think  
You make me nervous so I really can't eat

Let's go, don't wait  
This night's almost over  
Honest, let's make  
This night last forever"

First Date by Blink-182

Greg sat in his car nervously, constantly checking his hair in the rear view mirror. He was almost fifteen minutes early to pick up Sara for their first date. They had both agreed that the date should be fairly casual, but Greg had other plans. He had called up an old friend from college who just happened to be the head chef at one of Sara's favorite restaurants. It had taken Greg almost two days to set everything up. He hated having to dip into his savings, but he knew that Sara was worth it, and that this night had to be perfect.

Now, he sat in the front seat of his car, dressed simply in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a black blazer over a Pink Floyd shirt. Greg could not sit still. He tapped the steering wheel, fiddled with the radio, and kept checking his hair. Finally, when five minutes had passed, Greg trudged up to Sara's door, even though he was still ten minutes early. He rang the doorbell, then stepped back, hands in pockets, waiting for Sara. To his surprise, she answered the door promptly, dressed simply yet beautifully in a white blouse and black pants. "Hey!" said Greg, giving her a slow grin.

Sara shook her head and smiled. "Hey yourself. I was wondering if you were ever going to come up to the door."

He blushed. "Oh, sorry."

Sara laughed. "It's ok." They stood, there, slightly uncomfortable, until Sara asked, "So…um, are we going to go?"

"Oh, sure!" said Greg. He offered her his arm, which she took, laughing, and they proceeded to his car. He opened her door for her, then crossed around the front and got in on his side.

They drove for a few minutes, making quiet conversation, and then Sara asked, "So…where are we going?"

He threw her an impish grin. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Greg!" she exclaimed, whacking him on the arm.

"Hey!" he said, laughing. "I'm driving here!"

"Well, tell me where you're driving to."

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

"Greg Sanders, tell me where we are going or…" She never got to finish her threat because at that moment, they arrived.

"All right, everybody out!" said Greg cheerfully.

Sara got out before Greg could come open her door and stared in shock. They were at her favorite restaurant in the world, a vegetarian place that was really nice and really expensive. It was also supposed to be closed today. She pointed this out to Greg. "Greg, I thought they were closed today."

He came and stood next to her. "I know. C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand and leading her in. They were met by a wiry man in chef's clothing. "Chef!" exclaimed Greg, giving the man a big hug.

"Greg!" the man said, laughing. "It's great to see you." The two pulled apart and he bowed courteously to Sara. "And you," he said, kissing her hand, "must be Miss Sara Sidle, our Greg's date for the evening."

She nodded and blushed, then asked, "Are you the chef here?" He nodded, and Sara exclaimed, before she could stop herself, "Oh, wow, I love the food here! The vegetarian pâté is especially good."

He grinned and said to Greg, "Looks like you've got yourself a keeper, here, Greggo." To Sara, he said, "I'm glad you like it. Yes, I am the chef, Chef Charles Danzinger."

"Charles?" said Greg incredulously. "Since when do you go by 'Charles', Chuck?"

"Um, I dunno, maybe since I realized that being called Chuck isn't very professional," he shot back, offering Sara his arm.

Greg cut in before she could take his arm. Giving Chuck a dirty look, he said, "I'm still called Greggo, and I'm very professional."

"Oh, yeah, your Pink Floyd shirt is an excellent example of that," smirked Chuck as he brushed past them to show them their seats.

Greg growled at him and Sara stroked his arm comfortingly. They walked into the dining room and Sara gasped out loud. "Oh my God, Greg!" she exclaimed. The dining room was set up beautifully, with a single table and two chairs next to the dance floor. The room was full of red roses, petals scattered on the floor, bouquets in the wall sconces, and a large arrangement on the table. The lights were dimmed and candles, flickering cheerfully, completed the ambiance. Music was quietly playing in the background, and Sara gave Greg a huge grin. "Did you do this all yourself?"

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Well, I had some help…"

She threw her arms around him, giving him a huge kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Greg, this is fantastic! No, it's beyond fantastic, it's perfect."

He smiled shyly at her and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad you like it. Now c'mon, I'm hungry. Let's eat."

They sat down at the table and Chuck wheeled out a cart with the first course on it. It was minestrone soup, and it was amazing. The courses that followed were equally as good, and Sara and Greg enjoyed them, and enjoyed each other's company.

When they were done, Greg stood and offered Sara his hand. "Will you do me the honor of a dance, milady?" he asked with a courtly bow.

She giggled and nodded, suddenly nervous. They walked to the center of the dance floor and stopped. Greg smiled and said, "I propose that the next song will be our song."

"No matter what song it is?" asked Sara.

"No matter what."

Sara shrugged. "Ok."

They stood and waited for the song to change. A new song came on, the chords in the beginning echoing slightly in the empty restaurant. Sara groaned loudly. "A Backstreet Boys song?" she asked.

Greg smiled, slightly knowingly. "Listen to the words," he whispered in her ear as they started to dance.

She listened.

"You don't run with the crowd  
You go your own way  
You don't play after dark  
You light up my day  
Got your own kind of style  
That sets you apart  
Baby, that's why you captured my heart  
I know sometimes you feel like you don't fit in  
And this world doesn't know what you have within  
When I look at you, I see something rare  
A rose that can grow anywhere  
And there's no one I know that can compare

What makes you different, makes you beautiful  
What's there inside you shines through to me  
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need  
You're all I need, oh girl  
What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me

Hey, yeah yeah yeah

You got something so real  
You touched me so deep  
See material things  
Don't matter to me  
So come as you are  
You've got nothing to prove  
You won me with all that you do  
And I wanna take this chance to say to you

What makes you different makes you beautiful  
What's there inside you shines through to me  
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need  
You're all I need, oh girl  
What makes you different makes you beautiful

You don't know how you touched my life  
Oh in so many ways I just can't describe  
You taught me what love is supposed to be  
You saw the little things that make you beautiful to me

Oh yeah, yeah

What makes you,  
What makes you different makes you beautiful  
What's there inside you shines through to me  
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need  
You're all I need, oh girl  
What makes you different makes you beautiful to me

Everything you do is beautiful  
Love you give shines right through me  
Everything you do is beautiful  
Oh, you're beautiful to me"

She felt tears making their way down her cheeks. "You picked this song on purpose, didn't you?" she sniffled, laying her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe," he said quietly, holding her closer to him, one hand reaching up to stroke her hair. The song ended and they pulled apart slightly. Greg wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. "Sara," he began, suddenly serious. "This may not be the time, or the place, but I love you, and, well…" He faltered ever so slightly. "I'm pretty sure you love me. I can't imagine my life without you. So, Sara Sidle…" He dropped to one knee and pulled out a small, black velvet box in one fluid motion. "Will you marry me?"

Sara stared at him in shock. When she recovered her voice, the first thing she said was, "Greg, this was our first date."

"I know," he said quietly, ring still upheld towards her. "And," he continued quickly, obviously afraid of her reaction, "I was thinking we could have a long engagement, as long as you want. I just…I just want to know that you're mine."

She didn't answer. She took the ring from the box and looked at it. It was beautiful but classy, the perfect ring for her. Taking a deep breath, she slid the ring onto her finger. It fit. It fit as if that was where it was always meant to be. She reached down and drew Greg up, kissing him deeply. "Yes," she breathed, feeling his arms encircle her.

"Really? You…you mean it?" exclaimed Greg, excited.

"Yes, I mean it," smiled Sara. She held her hand up and examined the ring. "Some things are just meant to be."

* * *

_**A/N: **What? They're getting married? Well...we'll see. Song is _What Makes You Different_ by the Backstreet Boys. _  



	20. As Long as You're Mine

_**A/N:** Really short chapter, sorry. But it is a nice brief bit of happiness. All is right in the world…for now._

Chapter 20- As Long as You're Mine

"Kiss me too fiercely  
Hold me too tight  
I need help believing  
You're with me tonight  
My wildest dreams  
Could not foresee  
Lying beside you  
With you wanting me

And just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
I've lost all resistance  
And crossed some borderline  
And if it turns out  
It's over too fast  
I'll make every last moment last  
As long as you're mine

Maybe I'm brainless  
Maybe I'm wise  
But you've got me seeing  
Though different eyes  
Somehow I've fallen  
Under your spell  
And somehow I'm feeling  
It's up that I fell

Every moment  
As long as you're mine  
I'll wake up my body  
And make up for lost time  
Say there's no future  
For us as a pair  
And though I know I may know  
I don't care

Just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
Come be how you want to  
And see how bright we shine  
Borrow the moonlight  
Until it is through  
And know I'll be here holding you  
As long as you're mine"

As Long As You're Mine from Wicked

Greg could hardly believe what was going on in his world. At the moment, he and Sara lay together on his bed. She was asleep, gently snoring, and he was just watching her sleep. He still couldn't believe that this beautiful woman who he had loved so long was his fiancée, that she was going to marry him. He loved her for it. He loved her for everything. He loved everything about her, and could only hope that she felt the same. With a smile, he laid his head on the pillow and went to sleep, still holding her in his arms.

* * *

When Sara awoke, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She could feel Greg's arms around her and she relaxed into them. Somehow, he felt so right. This felt so right. If you had told her a month ago that she would be engaged to Greg Sanders, she probably would have laughed. But somehow, it just felt perfect, like the pieces of her life were falling into place, and they were all centered around him. She smiled and snuggled up against him. He was perfect. Still smiling, she went back to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Sara and Greg announced their engagement to the CSIs. Warrick was the first to respond. He groaned and pulled out his wallet, counting out twenty bucks and giving it to Nick, who was grinning. "God damn, you two," said Warrick, shaking his head. "Never thought it would be you. Good luck, though." 

Catherine was next to respond. She pulled out her wallet as well, this time pulling out fifty dollars and handing it to Nick. She stood then and hugged first Sara and then Greg. "Congratulations! Oh, Sara, we'll have to go shopping for wedding dresses! Oh, and all the fixings for the reception! I can hardly wait!"

Sara and Greg, who had expected Cath, Nick and Warrick to have betted on something, were shocked when Grissom tossed Nick a ten. Sara asked, slightly angrily, "Just what did you guys bet on?"

Warrick sighed, shot Nick a dirty look and said, "Nick bet us that Greg would propose to you on your first date."

Now Greg looked confused. "But Nick knew I was going to propose. I showed him the ring."

Grissom, Warrick and Catherine all turned slowly to Nick, who froze. "Uh, guys, I can explain," he started, but then turned and ran as they advanced on him, determined looks in their eyes. He bolted out of the break room with all three in hot pursuit.

Sara and Greg looked at each other and shrugged. They had work to do.

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Is it a bad thing when the song at the beginning of the chapter is longer than the chapter itself? But never fear, I'm fairly certain that every chapter after this one is longer. _  



	21. You Sound Like You Are Sick

**_A/N:_**_ And happiness ends...now! Well, not really...the forecast is most tragic with a chance of showers of happiness intermingled. Most of the happiness, however, will be bittersweet. Just to warn you. Not in this chapter, but the rest. Whatever, I digress. Usual disclaimer as always...Longer chapter this time...and here goes..._

Chapter 21- You Sound Like You Are Sick

"You sound like you're sick you look like you're  
Sick too you sound like you're sick  
But if you must act up But if you must act up  
You sound like you're sick You sound like you're sick  
Well I can't understand anything about you"

You Sound Like You Are Sick by the Ramones

It was the fourth night in a row that Greg had worked overtime. Yesterday, well, today as well, he hadn't even bothered going home. DNA was swamped. There had been a triple homicide paired with an apparent double suicide, all by having their throats slit. On the same day that that rolled in, three other cases had come in, too, and one had brought with it thirty-five separate condoms. It was a lab tech's worst nightmare.

Grissom watched the young man through the glass walls. Greg was reviewing yet another blood sample test. Grissom sighed. While he knew the cases needed to be done, Greg was certainly in no condition to do them. In fact, thought Grissom, his brow furrowing in concern, Greg doesn't look well enough to work under normal circumstances.

Indeed, he didn't, instead looking drawn and ill, heavy shadows highlighting his eyes in his too-pale face. "Hey, Cath," called Grissom aloud, his eyes not leaving their spot. "Does Greg look ill to you?"

Catherine joined him, sipping a cup of coffee. "Wow, yeah, he does. Maybe he should go see a doctor."

"Maybe he's just overworked," suggested Grissom.

Catherine gave him a look. "You and I have both seen our fair share of overworked, and Greg does not look simply overworked. He looks sick, possibly really sick. Griss, you should send him home."

Grissom nodded, already opening the door to the lab. "Hey, Greg," he said, coming and standing next to the tech.

Greg's eyes never left the computer screen, and he mumbled mechanically, "I don't have your results yet. Come back in half an hour."

Grissom cleared his throat gently and pointed out, "I don't have any evidence that you're supposed to be running."

Greg looked up, exhaustion evident in his gaunt face. "Oh, hey, Griss. Sorry, it's been a rough…" He checked his watch. "Twenty-six hours."

"Greg, you need to go home and sleep."

"I can't. I still have tons of evidence to run."

"Greg, that wasn't a request. Go home, get some rest, take next shift off, and catch up on your sleep."

Greg sighed. "Alright, I guess…" he said, slowly stretching and yawning. As he stretched, the shirt he was wearing rose a few inches over his stomach, and Grissom was shocked to see that, if even possible, Greg had gotten even thinner.

"When was the last time you ate?" demanded Grissom.

Greg rolled his eyes yet blushed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Er…I had dinner with Sara…two nights ago, maybe? I don't really remember."

"Greg, that means you haven't eaten in almost thirty-six hours!" exclaimed Grissom.

Sighing, Greg ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I know, I know, I keep meaning to, but…"

"Greg, go home, eat, then go to bed. That's an order!" barked Grissom, emulating an army sergeant.

Greg sighed, then stood and saluted with a touch of his old humor, before leaving.

Grissom shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the nagging voice that kept trying to convince him that something was seriously wrong with Greg.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Grissom was interrupted from his paperwork by his cell phone. "Grissom," he answered, holding the phone up to his ear with his shoulder as shuffled the papers he was holding. 

"Gil, it's Brass. We've got an issue with one of your people."

Instantly, Grissom was all ears. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"It's Sanders. He was pulled over for suspected DUI. He passed the breathalyzer, but the officer believes that Greg may be on some type of drugs."

"He WHAT?" roared Grissom, all the frustration of the past few days coming out in those two words.

"Look, Gil, it wasn't my call to make, ok? I'm just the messenger."

Grissom sighed and said, much calmer, "Sorry, Jim. It's been one of those weeks, you know? Anyway, I'll be over shortly to get a blood sample. Then I'm sending Greg home to sleep."

"Alright, see you in a few."

Grissom shut his cell phone and stood, walking briskly to go get his case. Maybe he could use this as an opportunity to see what was really wrong with Greg…

* * *

When Grissom arrived at the scene, Greg was sitting dejectedly on the curb, head resting in his hands. Grissom strode over to him, pulling on gloves as he went. When he reached him, Greg looked up and tried to smile. He failed miserably. Grissom sighed. "Ok, Greg, you know I hate to do this." He pulled out his flashlight and had Greg turn to look at him so that he could test the reaction time of his pupils. Greg's pupils reacted very slowly…too slowly. "Alright, I'm going to need a sample of your blood." Greg complied, looking away as the blood was taken. "Oh, and Greg?" continued Grissom as he finished up. "I made an appointment with your doctor for tomorrow at five pm. Go see what's wrong with you, ok?" Greg nodded and Grissom reached down to help him up. "Here, I'll give you a ride home." 

They drove to Greg's place in silence, neither feeling up for conversation. When they arrived, all Greg said was, "Don't tell Sara, alright? I'll tell her myself when I see her next."

Grissom nodded and Greg got out, trudging toward his apartment. Grissom waited until he saw him go into the house, then he left himself, heading back to the lab. He gave the blood to the dayshift lab tech, and told him that it was priority. He also told him to not only check for drugs, but for any abnormalities in his blood as well.

When his results got in an hour later, Grissom practically jogged to the lab. He picked up the results and looked at them. Greg had tested negative for any drugs, which was a relief. Grissom looked at the next set of results, the one for abnormalities, and stared in shock at the page. It couldn't be…

* * *

_**A/N: **_:Gasp: A cliffie! Oh my goodness gracious! Teehee. Sorry, I got nothing. ...Please don't hate me...  



	22. Down With the Sickness

**_A/N:_**_ Well, I certainly didn't expect such an outcry when I wrote the last chapter...and I expect there'll be an even bigger one after this one...In any case, usual disclaimer...Read away!_

Chapter 22- Down With the Sickness

"I can see inside you, the sickness is rising  
Don't try to deny what you feel  
(Will you give in to me?)  
It seems that all that was good has died  
And is decaying in me  
(Will you give in to me?)

It seems you're having some trouble  
In dealing with these changes  
Living with these changes  
Oh no, the world is a scary place  
Now that you've woken up the demon ... in me

Get up, come on get down with the sickness  
Get up, come on get down with the sickness  
Get up, come on get down with the sickness  
Open up your hate, and let it flow into me  
Get up, come on get down with the sickness"

Down with the Sickness by Disturbed

Greg groaned as he sat up and glanced at the clock. The red lights blurred so that he could hardly read the time. He squinted, and it became slightly less fuzzy, so that it was at least legible. 4:29. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Shit!" he exclaimed, suddenly remembering the doctor's appointment he had at five. He shot out of bed and into the shower, got dressed, drank a quick cup of coffee, and was on the road by 4:37. He screeched into the parking lot of the hospital and made it into Doctor Johnson's waiting room with literally only seconds to spare. Rushing to the front desk, he wheezed, "Greg…Sanders…I'm…here…for…my…appointment."

The receptionist hid a smile and pointed to a chair. "She'll be with you shortly."

Greg sank into the chair in relief. He stood up a few minutes later when the nurse called his name, and he followed her to an exam room. He waited patiently as they went through the usual questions, took his temperature, his blood pressure, his weight, and all the other bustling doctor things they do to make you feel better. Now he had to wait for the doctor to get in. And he waited…and waited…and waited. He was just about to give up and go home when Dr. Johnson opened the door and came in.

"Greg!" she said with a smile, extending her hand. "I didn't expect to see you in here so soon. What's wrong?"

That was why Greg liked Dr. Johnson. She never beat around the bush; she went straight to the point and asked him what was wrong.

He sat up a little straighter and explained what had happened, and how Grissom had wanted to get it checked out.

"Well," said Dr. Johnson, examining what the nurse had written. "You were right to come in. You're running a fever, so we'll give you something for that." She fell silent as she consulted previous records. Suddenly, she looked up and asked, concernedly, 'Greg, have you been eating lately?"

Greg nodded, looking confused. "Yeah, I eat all the time. Sara—she's my fiancée—she always hates how I can eat so much and not gain any weight."

"Actually, Greg, instead of simply not gaining weight, you're losing weight. You've lost over ten percent of your body weight since your admittance to Union County Hospital in Illinois."

Greg eyes widened. "I knew I lost weight, but I didn't think it was that much! Is this bad?" he asked, trying not to sound as worried as he was.

She shook her head and pursed her lips. "I don't know," she admitted. "It could be due to a number of things, but, due to your history, I'm going to run a few tests."

She drew some blood and left, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to have the lab put a rush on this. It should be done within an hour."

Greg wanted to comment that if he had been running the sample, he'd have it done in under thirty minutes, but decided now would not be a good time to press his luck. Instead, he sat back. He hated waiting, but there was nothing else to do. He tried flipping through a few of the awful magazines that hospitals felt the urgent need to keep in all their offices, but that quickly bored him. He instead took to counting the holes in the ceiling tiles. He was up to 5,437 when the door opened and Dr. Johnson came back in. He could tell right away by the expression on her face that she didn't bring good news. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up straight.

She sat down and sighed. "Greg, one of the hardest things a doctor has to do is tell a patient that they have a terminal illness."

Greg blanched. "Wha…what do I have?" he whispered.

She looked him in the eye. "You have HIV that has already progressed into AIDS." She would have kept going, but Greg had collapsed into a faint.

* * *

When Greg woke up, he didn't know where he was. It was a stark, white room that smelt faintly of chemicals and disease. Suddenly, he remembered. "Oh, shit…" he muttered. 

All of a sudden, he heard Grissom speaking to him. "Greg, are you alright?"

Greg looked up and shook his head, feeling tears well in his eyes. Grissom was instantly at his side. "Greg, what's wrong?"

Greg didn't answer. Instead, he whispered, "I have to quit my job."

"What? No, why?"

Greg just looked at him, hopelessness echoing in his eyes. "Griss…I have AIDS," he whispered, ducking his head in shame. When Grissom didn't say anything, Greg looked up sharply. "You knew?" he asked, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

Grissom nodded, slowly and sadly. "When I took your blood to be tested for drugs, I also had it tested for abnormalities. It came back HIV positive."

Greg smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a bitter smile that chilled Grissom's blood to look at. "Guess I should've known you'd do that." He sat up then, leaning against the headboard and crossing his arms in an unconscious gesture of self-preservation. "So what're you doing here, anyway?"

Grissom shrugged. "The hospital called me. Apparently, I'm listed as your emergency contact, so when you fainted, they wanted to let someone know."

Greg nodded, barely, just enough to show he had heard and understood. Then, he said quietly, "I guess I'll come in tomorrow and pack up my stuff."

Grissom shook his head angrily. "Greg, you're not going to quit just because of this!" he protested. "You've been HIV positive for years, and it hasn't stopped your work before!"

Greg slowly turned to face him, deadly calm. "What did you say?"

"You…it…Greg, it wasn't Bruno who gave you the AIDS," said Grissom gently. "We tested his body when we brought it in. It was clean."

Greg felt bile rising in the back of his throat. "So…my father…goddamnit," he snarled, turning and ramming his fist into the wall. Instantly, red-hot pain enveloped his arm, and he cried out.

A nurse ran in. "Mr. Grissom, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she commanded as she gave Greg a shot.

"What did you give him?" demanded Grissom.

"A sedative. He needs to rest; he just found out possibly the worst news of his life, and he is recovering from a traumatic event."

Dr. Johnson stepped into the room. "Thanks, Beatrice, I'll take it from here." The nurse nodded and left. Dr. Johnson stepped over next to Greg's bed and watched him for a second. "It sucks, doesn't it?" she asked, the calm in her voice barely masking the bitterness.

Grissom nodded and watched Greg with her. "Do you know what happened?" he asked quietly.

Dr. Johnson shrugged. "I know bits and pieces, from what his records and x-rays can tell. Twelve trips to the emergency room in just under two months isn't normal for any child; it's a sign of abuse. And Greg's sudden suicide attempt when he turned twelve…well, something had to prompt it, and though I hate to even think about it, it's the only thing that makes any sense."

Grissom didn't say anything, choosing instead to tuck the sheets more securely around Greg's sleeping body. "It shouldn't be him," he said sadly. "He doesn't deserve it."

"Nobody does," said Dr. Johnson.

"He thinks he has to quit work." When Dr. Johnson didn't respond, Grissom asked tentatively, "Surely you don't think he should?"

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly, I can't answer that. While I think it's important for Greg to be around his friends and family, and I believe the crime lab qualifies as both for him, I also know that potentially, Greg could contaminate evidence with one paper cut. I also think it may be easier for him to quit now instead of later…when he's too far-gone. He may not want everyone to see him like that."

"Doctor, I want you to be honest with me. How long does he have?"

"I don't know." Grissom gave her a look. "I honestly have no idea. Every patient is different. At the rate, however, that his HIV has progressed, I'd say he has a year. At most. Of course, it may be shorter or longer than that."

"But…isn't there anything…medicine or…"

"There are treatments, yes. But with Greg's condition being what it is…well, there's no guarantee they'd help at all. Chances are they'd hurt more than anything,"

"But he has to try, right?"

"It's up to him. The treatments I'm talking about aren't necessarily as simple as taking AZT. I'm talking about blood transfusions and lots of hospital time. All in all, it will be very expensive, and probably not worth it in the end."

Grissom just sighed. "I wish to God that this weren't happening. Jesus, he's supposed to be getting married…Oh, God, I gotta call Sara. She…she has to…" He couldn't continue because he had started crying.

Dr. Johnson left Grissom alone then. He needed time, and time alone, to deal with this. They all needed time to deal with this.

* * *

_**A/N:** 10 percent body weight loss and fever are both consistent with the progression of Human Immunodeficiency Virus into Aquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome._  



	23. Right Here Waiting

_**A/N:** This chapter leans towards the melodramatic, for which I apologize in advance. Usual disclaimer applies as it always does (because let's face it, if I owned 'em, the season finale would not have gone down like that). _

Chapter 23- Right Here Waiting

"I wonder how we can survive this romance  
But in the end, if I'm with you, I'll take the chance

Wherever you go, whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you  
Whatever it takes  
Or how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you"

Right Here Waiting as sung by Donny Osmond

Sara knew something was wrong when she went home and Greg wasn't there. Instead, Grissom sat in her living room, head in hands. Sara didn't even ask what was wrong; she knew. "What does he have?" she asked quietly, shutting the door behind her and setting her keys on the table.

Grissom looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "He…he has AIDS," he said, closing his eyes as if trying to block it out.

Sara stopped and stared at him. "No…" she whispered, unable to believe it. "It can't be. He…we…Oh my God." She sat down right where she was, in the middle of the floor, and started to cry. Grissom rushed over to her and took her in his arms, rocking and soothing her like one would a child. When her sobs had ceased, she pushed her hair back and sat up, wiping her cheeks half-heartedly. "I got your shirt wet," she said, pointing at the wet, clinging material.

Grissom looked down at it and shrugged. "It'll dry." Sara shrugged too and stood. "Do you want to go to the hospital?" he questioned quietly, standing as well. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and led the way to his car.

* * *

Sara sat next to Greg, who lay asleep on the bed. The sedative had yet to wear off, but when it did, Sara was going to be there. She held one of his hands in her own, gently stroking the long fingers and massaging the calluses. She squeezed his hand and sighed, then started when he squeezed back. She looked down at him as his eyelids slowly fluttered open. "Hey," she whispered, trying to smile. "How do you feel?" 

He just looked up at her, the pain evident not only in his eyes but etched all over his face. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he croaked, "Sara…"

She leaned down and wiped the tear away. "Shh…I'm here…and I'm not going anywhere."

"Sara, I…you…we can't," he said finally, shutting his eyes.

"Can't what?" asked Sara, confused.

"Can't get married."

Sara sat still. "Why not?" she asked slowly.

"Sara, I have AIDS!" exclaimed Greg. "I'm going to die!"

"So are we all," pointed out Sara mildly.

"But I have a year, maybe! Sara, I'm not going to make you a widow."

"But don't you love me?" whispered Sara, not quite comprehending.

"Sara, I love you more than anything in this world. But I won't make you a widow before you're forty. I won't do that to you." He paused, his dark eyes begging her to understand. "Besides," he continued, attempting to smile. "We can't consummate our marriage."

"Why not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're still capable, aren't you?"

Greg blushed. "Of course, but I won't! Sara, I could give you HIV!"

Sara shrugged in a debonair manner. "I'm willing to take that chance."

"But I'm not." Greg took her hand and held it, looking down at the ring on her finger, and sighed. "I won't take that chance, Sara. I can't. The thought of giving this to you…I couldn't do it. I would never forgive myself."

Sara didn't respond, she just held onto his hand tighter, trying to keep from crying.

"Sara, sweetheart, you can cry," he whispered, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "It's ok to cry." She couldn't take it then; the tears started pouring down her cheeks like Niagara Falls. "Oh, honey," sighed Greg. "Come on, climb in here with me." He scooted over and she slid into the hospital bed next to him. He held her against him as she sobbed into his hospital gown. "Shh…it's ok, sweetie. It'll be ok," he soothed, rubbing his hand in comforting circles on her back.

"Greg," she sniffled, raising her head off his chest. "We can still get married. We can still make it work."

He took both her hands in his. "Sara, if I could see even one way that we could be married without it ending in heartbreak, I would take that chance. But the way I see it, you'll just end up a widow in an unconsummated marriage that wasn't much of a marriage at all. Besides," he said, turning away from her in embarrassment, "the money I need for my treatments…I'd leave you destitute," he whispered. "Destitute and a widow. I couldn't do that. I…I just couldn't."

Sara began crying again softly. "But Greg," she whispered, "either way you'll leave me heartbroken." He didn't say anything, just gripped her tightly and sighed deeply. "Do…do you want the ring back?" she asked awkwardly, twisting it with her other hand.

"What? No. It was a gift…keep it. I have no use for it. Besides, even though we're not getting married, at least it can always remind you of how much I love you." He paused then, and when he spoke next, his voice was thick with unshed tears. "I suppose if you…if you wanted, we could…we could break up, so you can find someone to be with."

Sara sat up, staring down at him. "Greg, I love you. I would never leave you."

He nodded slowly, but explained softly, "Sara, you deserve someone who will always be there for you. I can't do that; I can't be that for you. No matter how I try for however long I have, I will never be good enough." He was crying now, tears splashing from his big brown eyes as he struggled to continue. "I'm…I'm broken, and nothing you can do will fix me."

Sara tightened her grip on him and whispered fiercely, "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. You have a disease, Greg, yes, and that disease will kill you, but it will never kill my love for you. In my eyes, you will always be perfect. And no matter what you think I deserve, or need, you're the one that I want, and I will never let that go. Never." She kissed him then, hot and angry and trying to make him understand that nothing could change her love for him. "I'll keep waiting for you," she whispered as she pulled back. "Until the end of time. You are mine, and I am yours. Always."

They kissed once more, long and sweet, until a nurse came in and demanded she let Greg get some rest. He held onto he hand for a moment more and she whispered reassuringly, "I'll be right here waiting, no matter what. Right here waiting."


	24. Smile Like You Mean It

_**A/N:** Well, another unhappy chapter on its way. This really won't get happy until around chapter 28 or so. Then it'll be happy until about chapter 34. So there's a bit of happiness coming up if y'all will just hold on for it. In any case, usual disclaimer with the addition of an evil Ecklie in this chapter. Read on!_

Chapter 24- Smile Like You Mean It

"Looking back  
At sunsets on the Eastside  
We lost track  
Of the time  
Dreams aren't what they used to be  
Some things slide by so carelessly

Smile like you mean it  
Smile like you mean it"

Smile Like You Mean It by the Killers

Greg once again found himself in a wheelchair, being wheeled out of the hospital, but this time, he felt no relief at leaving. His grip on Sara's hand never lessened as the attendant rolled him up to her car, parked in front of the hospital. Once more, he was settled into the front seat, and once more was driven away from the hospital, but this time he left knowing that he had to be back in only a few days for his first appointment with Dr. Martinez, the AIDS specialist recommended by Dr. Johnson.

Until then, there was nothing for Greg to do but go back to work. Grissom had tried to make him take a medical leave, but Greg had pointed out that he'd be taking enough of those in the near future, including an indefinite leave one day. Grissom had then relented, under the stipulation that upon Greg's arrival at the lab, he explain to everyone what he had. Grissom had insisted that keeping his disease a secret would only hurt more than help, so here Greg was, on his way to tell his friends, coworkers, and possibly the only family he had left that he had less than a year to live.

The prospect of telling them actually scared him more than the prospect of dying. He knew how they'd react, Nick with probably a choice swear word and a punch to the wall, Warrick with his indignant anger and concern, and Catherine with her tears and motherly disbelief and denial.

As they got closer to the lab, Greg's grip on his armrest gradually tightened, his knuckles turning white with the strain. Sara threw him a concerned glance, but he wasn't paying attention, concentrating instead on the buildings that slid past as they drove on.

They finally reached the lab, Sara pulling the car into its usual parking place, and Greg slowly got out, standing with his hands in his pockets and just looking at the door, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he struggled to keep his composure.

Sara came up behind him and wordlessly took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Together they entered and walked slowly to the break room, where Grissom had gathered the rest of the night shift. Greg looked in through the window and saw them sitting together, laughing at some joke Nick had cracked. They seemed so happy, and Greg knew that he was going to take that away.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and held it for Sara before shutting it behind him. He swallowed hard and said quietly, "Hey guys, I've got some news."

Silence fell as the three of them looked at him, concern and confusion wrinkling their brows. As Greg looked at them, he felt his throat seize up and he couldn't speak. Then he looked at Grissom, and was instantly encouraged just by the older man's calm presence. He looked at Sara and took strength from the love that burned in her eyes.

With another deep breath, he said, "Guys…I found out a few days ago that I have AIDS. According to the doctor, I have about a year, possibly less. So…yeah."

Shocked silence met him as they stared at him. "What? How?" exclaimed Nick, looking at Grissom in confusion. "I thought we tested Bruno! I thought he came back clean!"

"He did," responded Grissom calmly.

"But then…how?" asked Nick.

Greg blushed slightly, and he said quietly, "My dad. He…I…he raped me." He fell silent and dropped his eyes, afraid to look at them, to see the fear and revulsion playing on their faces.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms encircle him, and he looked up to find Catherine hugging him. "Oh, God, Greg," she murmured, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Warrick and Nick hadn't moved; they both sat in shock. Warrick spoke up then. "But…surely there're treatments, right? AZT or something, right?"

Greg shook his head sadly. "AZT might not work at this point. I go in a couple of days to discuss my options."

Now Nick spoke, in a dead, hollow-sounding voice. "Less than a year?" Not trusting himself to say it again, Greg just nodded. "Fuck," muttered Nick, abruptly standing and striding from the room, tears streaming down his face.

"Nick!" called Grissom, making as if to stand, but Greg stopped him.

"I'll go." He left, knowing exactly where Nick had gone. He climbed the stairs two at a time. Nick sat on the edge of the roof, cradling his arm and seemingly oblivious to the tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Nick?" asked Greg tentatively, coming over and standing next to him. "Shit, Nick, you're bleeding!" he exclaimed, fumbling for his handkerchief and pressing it against Nick's hand, the knuckles of which were bleeding fairly freely.

Nick looked down at them as if noticing it for the first time. "Oh. Yeah. I punched the wall." He looked up at Greg sadly. "Why you, man? Why is it always you?"

Greg sighed and sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I dunno, maybe God just hates me," he said slowly. "Maybe I fucked up royally in another life. Believe me, if I had known this would happen, I would never have done anything wrong."

Shaking his head emphatically, Nick said, "It's not your fault, Greggo. Don't blame yourself for this."

Greg smiled wryly. "This conversation sounds familiar, except I think last time the roles were reversed."

Nick didn't smile. "Greg, I mean it. What your father did to you…it wasn't your fault. None of this was."

Greg just shrugged, staring out into the city. "Yeah, but whether or not it was my fault, I'm still the one who has to live with the repercussions," he reminded Nick.

They both fell silent for a moment until Greg said quietly, "You know what the worst part is? I was happy when the bastard died. I thought he couldn't hurt me anymore. God, I was wrong. He's gone right back to fucking everything up. My job's fucked, my health's fucked, God, even my relationship with Sara is fucked."

Nick looked up sharply. "What do you mean, your relationship with Sara? She didn't dump you when…when you found out, did she? 'Cause if she did, I swear…"

Greg held up a hand to stop him. "No, actually, I'm kind of the one who broke things off with her. I told her we can't get married."

Nick didn't say anything. Greg shot him a sideways glance. "Surely you don't think…"

Now it was Nick's turn to hold up a hand for silence. "Greg, I'm not going to get in the middle of this. It's for you and her to work out, not me." He checked his watch. "Shit, we better get back or Grissom'll fire us both."

Greg stood. "God, that's the last thing I need. No job would mean no money, and I've got precious little of that as it is."

Nick stood as well, giving Greg a concerned look. "Greg, do you need help paying for treatments? 'Cause, man, all you gotta do is ask, and it's yours."

"No, man, I'll be fine. I'll figure something out."

Nick shrugged. "Ok, whatever you say, but remember, I'm here for you, no matter what, ok?"

"Yeah, thanks. Now let's go or else Grissom will fire us."

* * *

An hour later, Greg sat in the DNA lab, idly tapping his pencil against the desk while he waited for his results. He was startled by Ecklie storming in and snapping, "Sanders, my office, now!", before marching out again. Greg hurried to follow him, passing by Hodges in Trace, who shot him a better-you-than-me smirk. 

He entered Ecklie's office after knocking once. The first thing he saw was Grissom, who was standing off to one side, looking, to put it mildly, absolutely furious.

Ecklie sat behind his desk, giving Greg the cold, impersonal look of a man who didn't give a damn about any of his underlings. "Sanders, Grissom has just informed me that you are HIV positive. Is that correct?" Greg nodded wordlessly. "Why didn't you tell me yourself?"

Greg frowned slightly. "According to the handbook, I only have to notify my supervisor when I contract a life-threatening illness, which I did, seeing as Grissom, not you, is my supervisor."

Ecklie's mouth puckered slightly. "Mr. Sanders, do you have any idea how bad this could look for the lab? What the repercussions of having an HIV-positive lab tech could be?" Greg didn't respond, his face impassive, and Ecklie leaned back in his chair, studying him. "The best course of action," he began, cold eyes watching Greg, "for both the lab and the team, would be to fire you immediately."

"Conrad, this is absurd!" exploded Grissom, his face taking on a dangerous hue of red. "Greg has been living with HIV for sixteen years and never once contaminated evidence. He—"

He was cut off in mid-sentence by a knock on the door. It was Hodges. "Um, sorry. I just wanted to let you know I had your samples done," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Ecklie nodded. "Alright, David, thank you. I'll be in shortly."

Hodges nodded and turned to go, but then he turned back. "Sir? I couldn't help but overhear, and I wanted to express my opinion on the matter at hand."

Ecklie leaned forward, interested, while Greg closed his eyes, afraid to hear what Hodges had to say about him.

"Sir, I know Greg and I have had our many, varied differences in the past, and while I may not always approve of the way he does his job, I must say that he is the best DNA technician I have ever met, and firing him would not only cause this lab to lose many team members, who would most likely quit, but also its best DNA tech."

Greg opened his eyes in shock, swiveling around to face Hodges, who, looking slightly embarrassed about what he had just said, made a hasty retreat.

Grissom allowed himself a small smile, which Greg shared, before turning back to Ecklie, who looked like he had either swallowed something sour or had just had his favorite toy taken away.

"Very well, Sanders, you can stay," he said reluctantly. "But under certain provisions. Firstly, you will notify me first whenever something new medically occurs with you, including treatment and medicine. Secondly, you will be required to attend mandatory therapy sessions. They can be group or individual, but the last thing I need is for you to have an emotional breakdown at work. Speaking of work, you'd better be getting back to it."

Greg nodded, muttered his thanks, and took off, heading not to the DNA lab, but instead towards Trace. He stood in the doorway and raised an eyebrow at Hodges. "I think I owe you my undying gratitude," he said, leaning casually against the door.

Hodges shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you know how it is…actually, now that you mention it, I think an eternity of servitude is in order, and we'll see where it goes from there."

Greg grinned. "Thanks Hodges." He turned and started to leave, then asked slowly, "Why'd you do it?"

Hodges once again shrugged. "Who would I make fun of if you were gone? Besides, my uncle died of AIDS, so…And," he added, his ears turning pink. "I guess I'd miss you, just a little."

Greg just shook his head and smiled. "I guess I'd miss you, too."

Hodges nodded once, then said, "Now get out, Sanders! Unlike some of us, I actually have work to do."

Greg left, still smiling. Some things never change.

* * *

Greg stood in the bathroom, coughing slightly as he finished regurgitating his dinner into the toilet. He looked in the mirror, taking in the shadows under his eyes, and murmured aloud, "God, I can't control this, can I?" 

His gaze fell on the razor blade he had set next to the sink when he was changing blades on his razor. He picked it up and looked at it for a second before drawing it gently across his upper arm. He hissed as it broke the skin, then sighed as he felt the pain…pain he brought on, pain he could control. It was beautiful.

"Greg, are you coming?" called Sara from the bedroom. She was staying at his place now. This had been a sort of unstated agreement they had come upon sometime that day.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, sweetie."

Greg opened the cabinet and hid the blade in the back before wiping off the blood, rolling his sleeve down, turning off the light and joining Sara in bed.

* * *

_**A/N:** Eek, things just keep spiraling downward for poor Greggo, don't they? Never fear, the self-mutilation part is very brief, only featured in the next three chapters._  



	25. Will I?

_**A/N: **So…another chapter. Not too much to say on this one. Minor spoilers for _Play With Fire._ Other than that…not too much to say. Enjoy!  
_

Chapter 25-Will I?

"Will I lose my dignity?  
Will someone care?  
Will I wake tomorrow  
From this nightmare?"

Will I? from Rent

Greg hated doctor's offices. The falsely cheerful décor, the bad magazines from some twenty years ago, the annoying receptionists…and Dr. Martinez's office was no exception. Considering the fact that she was the leading AIDS specialist in Las Vegas, he had expected her office to be at least slightly more subdued, since her patients had all been given death sentences. Greg sat in the waiting room, ignoring the magazines carefully stacked on the table in front of him. He glanced at his watch. Two hours until shift started. He hoped he wouldn't be late. He still had to prove to Ecklie that he could do his job in spite of this…disease.

With a resigned sigh, he reached for an ancient issue of Sports Illustrated just as the receptionist called his name. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he followed the nurse to the exam room. He declined to sit on the table, taking instead one of the chairs. The nurse left and Greg settled in for a long wait. He was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Martinez joined him only a few minutes later.

"Greg Sanders?" she asked, offering him her hand to shake. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's fine, thanks," he said, shaking her hand and flashing her a smile. "I wasn't waiting long."

Dr. Martinez settled herself into the chair opposite Greg. "Alright, now I'm sure you have some questions. Why don't we get those out of the way before we begin the exam."

Greg nodded and leaned forward. "Dr. Martinez—"

"Please, call me Susan," she interjected.

"Er…ok…Susan, I guess the main question is what should I expect as…as it progresses?"

She sighed and leaned forward as well. "I'm going to be as honest with you as I possibly can." She paused, then said, "There is no definite way to tell what will happen. Each case is as unique as the individual himself. As time goes on and your T-Cell count gets lower, you will get sick more. It will start with more colds, maybe the flu more often. Then you'll start getting more serious diseases: pneumonia, maybe bronchitis, and such forth. As time further progresses, not only are you likely to be more susceptible to life-threatening diseases like TB and others, but any lesser illness are going to be less likely to cure, simply because your immune system will be shot. When this happens, your immune system will shut down completely, and…" She trailed off.

"And I'll die," finished Greg hollowly.

"Yes," said Dr. Martinez quietly. "You will die."

Greg sat in silence for a minute, then asked, "When…when my immune system shuts down, what will happen? I mean, I've heard stories about brain damage, and essentially becoming retarded, and…"

Dr. Martinez shook her head. "With the modern drugs we have, the chances of you being brain damaged are a lot less than they once were."

Greg nodded in relief.

"Any other questions?" she asked.

"Um…well, what are my treatment options?"

"Ok, I was hoping you would ask that. At this point, we don't know how your body will react to drugs, so I'm going to start you on AZT and hope that your body won't reject it. It will help bring up your immune system, and will hopefully get your T-Cell count higher. When you start getting sicker, however, and the AZT doesn't work, we'll simply have to treat each infection on an individual basis."

Greg nodded, head spinning with all the information. "I wish this had never happened to me," he said quietly.

"I know," said Dr. Martinez, just as quietly. "But 'so do all who live to see such times... but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.'"

Greg looked up, surprised. "The Lord of the Rings?" he asked.

"Yep, Gandalf." Greg nodded once more, slowly, and she nodded as well. "Alright, well, if you don't have any more questions, let's get on with the examination." She flipped the sheet of paper on her clipboard over. "Take off your shirt, please."

Greg froze. "Uh…is that really necessary?"

Dr. Martinez favored him with a frosty look. "Yes, I need to see how thin you've gotten and I'll need to check your breathing, which is easier with your shirt off."

With a sigh, Greg stood and pulled his shirt over his head and stood there, feeling exposed.

Dr. Martinez noted something on the clipboard, then said, "Alright, now turn around." Greg gulped, then turned.

She stood and ran her fingers over his back. "I see the residual scarring from the explosion you were caught in," she commented. "But what are these new marks?"

He flinched involuntarily. "Oh, uh…er…we…we got a new cat," he stammered lamely.

"Hm…these lacerations are inconsistent with accidental scratches of any kind, but especially cat scratches. I'd say judging by the size, depth and spacing, they were made with a razor of some kind." She stepped back and looked at him sadly. "Greg, what are you doing to yourself?"

Greg just looked at her, the helplessness unending in his dark chocolate eyes. "I have no control over anything anymore," he said calmly, with the rationality of a man who had nothing rational left in his life. "This is the one thing that I can control. I can control the pain. I can control it, only me."

"Greg," said Dr. Martinez gently, "I want you to see a psychiatrist."

"Good," snorted Greg flippantly. "I have to see one anyways. My boss' orders."

"Well, I want you to see one because I think you would benefit from anti-depressants."

"You want to put me on drugs?" he asked incredulously. "That's your solution? Pills? How is that any better than what I'm doing?"

Dr. Martinez sat down and sighed. "Greg, that's not what I'm saying. Anti-depressants won't just help with the cutting. It'll help with everything."

"I can't…" he whispered, sinking into a chair. "I'll have to explain it to Sara. How can I explain that to Sara? She'll leave me."

Dr. Martinez took his hand in her own. "Greg, I don't know Sara, I'll admit that, but if she loves you as much as I think she does, then she would never leave you, no matter what."

Greg began to cry, openly. "I don't deserve her," he sobbed. "I'm such a horrible person. I can't even marry the woman I love, or be the man she deserves."

"It's not your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself," said Dr. Martinez gently. He just kept crying. "Greg?" she questioned. "Will you see the psychiatrist?" He nodded, slowly. "Good," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll make an appointment with her for tomorrow. And in the mean time, try not to cut, ok?"

He nodded once more. She turned to leave, then turned back, whispering, "This is one thing you can beat, Greg. Good luck."

* * *

_**A/N:** The quote is from_ The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings. _Oh, and a happy early Memorial Day to everyone. God bless our troops._


	26. Come Clean

**_A/N: _**_Ah, yet another chapter. Few quick things before we go. Actually, one quick thing, really, before we go...this chapter, towards the end, has a very naturalistic, Man vs. Nature kind of feel. But yeah. Usual disclaimer. Read on! _

Chapter 26- Come Clean

"Let the rain fall down  
And wake my dreams  
Let it wash away  
My sanity  
Cuz I wanna feel the thunder  
I wanna scream  
Let the rain fall down  
I'm comin' clean"

Come Clean by Hilary Duff

Greg woke up early the next afternoon, to prepare for his first session with Dr. Katherine Parr. He wanted to look good. He wanted to look really good. He had to make sure he didn't look too good, though; he didn't want to come off as OCD. He decided to tone down his clothes; even he knew that Marilyn Manson could come off as kind of creepy, and he didn't really want to make the shrink think he was any crazier than she probably already thought he was.

In lieu of his usual outfit, then, he wore a simple, blue button-up shirt, with a loose pair of jeans and casual yet nice brown shoes. He spiked his hair as usual, then examined his reflection in the mirror. "Not bad," he said out loud, reaching down to pet Shadow's head. "What do you think, Shadow? Do I look like a crazy person?"

Shadow barked enthusiastically. Greg glared at him. "Fine, be that way." He headed to the kitchen to grab a quick cup of coffee before heading out. Glancing out the window, he took in the dark clouds that blotted out the normally over-bright sun. "Perfect," he muttered darkly. "Fits my mood."

With a sigh, he drained the coffee, grabbed his keys and headed out. As he drove, he tried to calm himself down, but his mind wouldn't listen. The only things he could think of were padded rooms and straightjackets.

He pulled into the parking lot and headed into the building. It was a modestly sized building, with a typical waiting room, but luckily, Greg got to go in right away.

Dr. Parr's actual office surprised him. He felt as if he had walked into the living room of his grandfather's cabin in northern California. A large, poofy leather couch dominated the room, followed by a few chintz armchairs, several bookshelves crammed with dusty volumes, pictures and knick-knacks, a couple of throw rugs, and an old desk pushed into the corner.

Greg looked around the room, and, with a shrug, sat on the couch, waiting for the doctor. Less than a minute later, she walked in. Just like her office, Dr. Parr herself wasn't what Greg was expecting. For some reason, he had thought of her as a tall, imposing, possibly fierce woman, but instead, she was a smaller woman, with curly red hair.

"Hi, Greg, I'm Kat," she said with a smile. "I'm glad to see you've made yourself comfortable." She settled in on one of the armchairs, taking a pencil from behind her ear and grabbing a ratty notebook from the small side table. "Ok, Greg, I want you to tell me what happened."

He smiled wryly. "Where do you want me to begin?"

To his surprise, she broke out singing. "Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start." She smiled at him. "Start at the beginning. Always start at the beginning."

"Um, ok." Greg took a deep breath. "Well, when I was four, my mom died…" He found himself spilling the entire story to her, up through his doctor's appointment the previous day.

Dr. Parr listened, chewing gently on the eraser of her pencil and occasionally making a small note in her notebook. When he had finished, she set her pencil down and gazed at him. "If you don't mind," she said quietly, "I'd like to see your back."

Greg shrugged and got up, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. She stood and walked over to him, running her finger over the scars just like Dr. Martinez had.

"Hm," she said aloud. "Most are about an inch long, not too deep, parallel." She traced the ones lower on his back. "Ah, but these…these were made when you were angry. Am I right?"

He swiveled his head around to look at her. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"They're deeper, more jagged. Not cleanly done. You wanted to feel pain, lots of pain." She stepped back and looked at him seriously. "My question is, why?"

"Why not?" asked Greg bitterly. "What do I have left to lose?"

"Well, Sara, for one thing. I know you're scared to lose her, Greg."

He shrugged as he put his shirt back on. "So what if I am?"

Kat shrugged as well before she sat back down. "Well, I can understand that. I mean, who'd want to be with a guy who had AIDS, is dying, and on top of that is having a mental breakdown, right? I mean, it's just a matter of time before she loses interest, right?"

A muscle in Greg's jaw twitched. "It's not like that," he growled.

"Oh, really? Because from where I'm standing, I see no reason for her to stay with you."

"She would never do that. She loves me."

"Who can love someone who doesn't love himself?"

Greg sat down, hard. "Don't say that," he said, barely above a whisper. "I need her. I love her."

"You love her? But how do you repay her? Slicing your back open when things get 'too hard'?"

Greg was crying now. She knelt down next to him. "Why do you do it, Greg? Why, when you stand to lose the only good thing left in your life?"

"Because I can control it!" he yelled, standing up suddenly and pacing about the room. "Because everything going on in my life is out of my control, but this…this is something I can control. Only me. Only I can control the pain, only I control the blood, only me. It is the only thing that I have left that I can truly control."

"You can control your love for Sara, can't you?"

Greg smiled, a heart-wrenching smile. "No," he said quietly. "That love knows no bounds."

Dr. Parr looked at him for a second, then said, "I'll tell you what you can control. You can control your urge to cut. You can stop yourself from doing so." He started to shake his head, but she kept going. "Yes, Greg, you can. And only you can. Not me, not Dr. Martinez, not Sara…only you.

Greg sat down again, this time thoughtfully. "I…I guess I never looked at it like that."

"Well, from now on, try." She looked at her watch. "Greg, I think we made real progress today. I'm not going to lie, though. You still have a long way to go. You're a self-mutilator. You've tried to kill yourself twice, once by drug overdose and once by slitting your wrist. You have anger problems, trust issues, and emotional problems in general."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" asked Greg quietly, not meeting her eyes.

"No, Greg, I don't. I think you're scared, and I think you have every right to be." She paused, and then she said gently, "But I do think you need help."

"Drugs?" he asked meekly.

"Yes, Greg, I want to put you on anti-depressants. I know you don't like the idea, but in truth, it will help. I have a prescription here for you." She paused once more then looked Greg straight in the eyes. "I also think you need to tell Sara."

Greg started and leaned forward, eyes wide with something akin to fear. "No, I can't. If she knew…it would kill her. It would break her heart. How…how could I do that to her?"

"Greg, how can you not tell her? The guilt is eating you up inside! That's one of the reasons why you cut. You cut, and then you feel guilty, and then you cut more. It's a vicious cycle, Greg, and it has to stop. You have to stop it. You have to let go of the guilt."

He just shook his head, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "Promise me you'll think about it," she urged. "Promise me!"

"I'll…I'll think about it. I promise."

Kat sighed. "Alright. And promise me you'll get that prescription filled."

"I will."

"I'm also going to make a weekly appointment for you. Is the same time ok?" He nodded wordlessly. "Good. Here's my card, with my home phone number on it. Call anytime, any day, if you need me, ok?" He just nodded once more. "Greg, you can do this," she said. "I promise."

* * *

Greg drove numbly back to his apartment, thinking over all the things Dr. Parr had said to him. "Talk to Sara," he said out loud, dubiously. "Yeah, right. Cuz that conversation would go real well. 'Hey, Sara, babe, I love you…but I take a razor blade and slash my back when I feel like everything's getting out of control. But it has nothing to do with you, sweetheart, I promise.'" He laughed wryly. "Oh, yeah, that would be a bitch to explain." 

He sighed and fell silent again. Reaching for the radio, he turned it on just in time for the weather report. "…commuters should be aware that a big storm is rolling into the Las Vegas area. Rain is expected to begin at anytime. Roads will be slick, folks, and some areas could be flooded, so drive carefully!"

"Damn!" swore Greg, turning the radio off. Sighing, he fumbled for his cell phone, pushing the first speed dial number. "Hey, Griss, it's Greg. Yeah, look, I'm going to be late…yeah, well, I was on my way over, but I heard about the rain that's coming, and I have windows open at home…Alright, I'll be there ASAP…Yes, Griss, I'm taking it easy…" He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in frustration. "Yeah, I had my first appointment today…uh-huh…uh-huh…yeah, see you soon." He closed his cell and tossed it on to the seat beside him.

Just as he reached his apartment complex, the heavens opened and it began to pour. Huge drops of rain splashed on the pavement like tears from above.

Greg darted from his car to the door, fumbled with his keys for a minute before finally making it inside. Still cursing softly under his breath, he ran to his window and closed it with a snap. Pausing only to scratch Shadow's ears and grab a jacket, he ran straight to his car, diving in before he was completely soaked by the rain.

He jammed the key into the ignition, turning it quickly. The car gave a guttural grinding noise, then fell silent. "Shit," muttered Greg under his breath, turning the key again. This time, the car whined loudly before dying. "Goddamnit, this is not the day to do this!" he yelled in frustration.

He grabbed his cell and called Grissom again. "Hey, Griss, it's me again…yeah, look, my car died…no joke, man, it won't start…Yeah, sure…look, I'll pull a double tomorrow, ok?" He paused. "Grissom, I'm fine to pull a double. I'm not going to keel over and die because I work an extra shift. I promise." He listened again. "Yes, Mother, I'll get some rest…yeah, ok…yeah, see you tomorrow."

He closed the phone and slid it in his pocket before half-heartedly trying to start the car again. It gave one low growl before going silent.

Greg groaned aloud, then got out of the car and just stood outside, feeling the rain drops dripping down his face. He raised his head to the sky, held out his arms and yelled, "Is this some kind of punishment, God? Or some kind of threat to get me to tell Sara? Cuz if it is, well, fuck you! Fuck you and fuck this, because I'm not telling her!"

Lightning flashed, dangerously close, and he involuntarily flinched. He remembered all too well the feel of burning flesh. He quickly headed back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He just stood there for a minute, the rain dripping off of him. Shivering, he peeled his soaking shirt off and threw it aside, wincing slightly as he felt the material brush a few still-open cuts.

With a deep sigh, he walked to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and set one of his steak knives down next to it on the table. He sat there, just staring at the glass of Jack Daniel's and the knife as if trying to decide which was the lesser of two evils.

A rumble of thunder rolled through his thoughts. It sounded like it was right above him. "What do you want, God?" asked Greg quietly, voice barely audible over the crash of the thunder. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell Sara? Is that it?" A low crack of thunder seemed to agree with him. "Cuz I don't know if I can do that. I'm…I'm not strong enough. God, I'm weak. I'm so weak, and I seem to discover new depths of my weakness everyday. I just…I can't do that."

Thunder crashed again, even louder. "I'm scared, God, I'm so scared. I'm scared to lose Sara, I'm scared she'll leave me, I'm scared of this disease…I'm scared to die." The incessant tattoo of the rain against the windowpane beat like a snare drum into Greg's mind. He was sobbing now, but at the same time trying to stop himself from doing so. "I just can't do it. I can't."

The wind howled and the thunder smashed and the rain crashed in sheets against the windows. The apartment complex seemed to shake with Nature's wrath. For probably only the fourth or fifth time in his life, Greg was scared, truly scared.

"Why me, God? Why me?" No answer seemed to come, save what crashing thunder and torrents of rain could tell.

"Fine, God, fine!" he screamed as the thunder boomed and roared. His face was briefly illuminated by an eerie green glow as another bolt of lightning sizzled through the sky. The tears coursing down his face matched the rain streaming down the windows.

"Fine. I'll tell her." The rain stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving behind a world washed clean. "It will break her heart, but I will tell her."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. "Greg, it's me!" called Sara's voice from outside. "Let me in! Are you alright?"

Greg wiped his eyes and looked up at the sky. "Wish me luck, God. I need all the help I can get." Raising his voice slightly, he called, "I'm coming, sorry!" Taking a deep breath, he crossed to the door and opened it.

* * *

_**A/N:** Song she sings is _Do Re Mi_ from _The Sound of Music.  



	27. If I Only Had the Words To Tell You

**_A/N:_**_ Bit of a cliffie last time, sorry. But honestly, the anticipation is killing me...how will she take it? What will happen? Oh, wait, you're going to find out in two seconds when you read the chapter! Silly me. Don't ask, I'm in a strange mood...Usual disclaimer. Jerry Bruckheimer owns the lot of 'em, much to my eternal dismay...but anyways...  
_

Chapter 27- If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You)

"If I only had the words to tell you  
If you only had the time to understand  
But I only have these arms to hold you  
And it's all that you can ask of any man"

If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You) by Billy Joel

Greg pulled the door open and let Sara in. Her eyes narrowed in surprise and suspicion as she took in Greg's naked torso. "Greg, are you ok?" she repeated.

He gave her a tight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. "Can we talk?" he asked as she walked past him into the apartment.

"Um, sure," she said, clearly worried. Greg followed her into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw the glass and the knife. "Greg, what the hell is going on?"

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then walked past her to the table, where he took the glass and downed the clear amber liquid.

Sara gasped when she saw his back, which was turned towards her while he drank. "Oh my God, Greg, what happened to your back?" she whispered, stepping forward and gently touching the wounds with the tip of her pointer finger. When he didn't answer, she took a step back. "Greg, what the fuck is going on?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he turned slowly and raised his eyes to her. As soon as she saw his face, saw his eyes, she knew, and she stepped backwards once more in shock. "No! No, Greg, tell me you didn't. Tell me you didn't do that to yourself!" she cried, eyes wide and tears beginning to glisten like diamonds.

"Sara—" he started, but she cut him off.

"No, don't you 'Sara' me. Tell me you didn't do that. Tell me that you did not take a knife, or a razor, or whatever and slice your back open. Tell me!"

"I can't," he whispered, dropping his eyes. "It would be a lie if I told you that." He paused, then said quietly, "Sara, I didn't want you to find out this way."

"Did you even want me to find out at all?" she asked, deadly calm. When he didn't say anything, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it, turned on her heel, and walked out of the kitchen.

"Sara!" called Greg as he ran after her. "Sara!" She sat on his couch, head buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "Oh, Sara," he sighed, going to her and putting his arms around her. "Sara, sweetie, it's not your fault. I promise you that. Please don't blame yourself."

She lifted her head and just looked at him. "Why? Why would you do that? Why?"

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Have you ever felt powerless?" he asked, stroking her hair gently.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, pushing his hand away and sitting up.

"No, I mean, have you ever felt so completely powerless that you feel the need to take control anyplace that you can get it?" Sara didn't say anything. "Well, that's how I felt. That's how I feel. I need that control. I needed it to breathe, to live."

"Greg, I refuse to believe that you're some sort of power-tripping control freak, because you're not! You have never been and you will never be."

He just shook his head slowly. "Sara, I never wanted supreme power. I just wanted control over one miniscule part of my life."

They were silent for a few minutes, and then Greg said quietly, "Look, I realize that my explanation doesn't even begin to explain anything, but I love you, and I won't hold anything you do or say against you."

She took his hand. "Greg, I love you. I love this, I love us, and nothing you or anyone else can do will ever take that away from me. But if you want this to work, if you want us to work, then you have to promise me that you'll be honest with me."

Greg looked her straight in the eye. "I promise."

She stood and kissed him on top of his head. She walked toward the kitchen to get them some drinks, then stopped and turned around. "Oh, and Greg, just so you know, I have felt that powerless six times in my life. First was when my mom stabbed my dad. Second was after the explosion. The third was after you were kidnapped. Fourth was when you tried to commit suicide. Fifth was when you told me that you had AIDS."

"And the sixth?" asked Greg quietly, brown eyes watching her.

"The sixth was tonight."

* * *

Sara and Greg sipped their beers in silence. Occasionally, Greg would toss a glance at Sara, and begin to say something, but every time he seemed to think better of it. Instead taking a long pull of his beer. 

Finally, Sara noticed. She set her beer down and sighed. "Greg, is there something else you need to tell me?" she asked.

He gulped and ducked his head. "I need another beer," he muttered, getting off the couch and heading to the kitchen.

She stood and followed him. "Greg, what is it? Please tell me."

He bent to get a beer out of the fridge, then straightened slowly. "I…I'm seeing a therapist. A psychiatrist, actually. She's prescribed some anti-depressants to me."

She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. "That's good," she said tentatively, warily watching Greg as he brushed past her to go back to the living room. "Isn't it?" she asked, following him.

He shrugged morosely before throwing himself on the couch. Sara sat down next to him. "Greg, there's nothing wrong with seeing a therapist. Nor is there anything wrong with being on anti-depressants."

"I know."

"Then why are you upset about this?"

Greg couldn't meet her eyes as a single tear trailed its way down his cheek.

She put her arms around him concernedly. "Greg, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"I'm ashamed, ok?" he burst out.

"But there's nothing to be ashamed of!" protested Sara.

"I'm ashamed of being this weak. I'm ashamed that I can't do this on my own. And, more than anything, I'm afraid that you'll be ashamed of me too."

Sara took both his hands in his. "Greg, I will never be ashamed of you. I'm proud of you because you got help. You're not weak, and no one, no one can go through what you're going through alone." She paused, then said, "Besides, you can't be ashamed of not being able to do this on your own, because you will never be doing this on your own, because I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, I'm just…I'm just terrified that I'll lose you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and even in the midst of all this shit, you're…you're like a beam of light, cutting through the dark, or something like that." He grinned. "And that sounded really lame, didn't it?"

Sara smiled too, but it was sadder. "No, it wasn't lame, it was sweet." She took a deep breath. "And Greg, you're not the only one who's afraid of losing someone." She took another shaky breath, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. "Greg, I am so scared."

He took her in his arms. "What are you scared of?"

"Everything. Oh, God, everything. I'm scared of losing you, I'm scared of what's going to happen to you, I'm scared of you dying. I'm…I'm scared of living without you."

She was really crying now, as all of her fears and worries spilled out. "I don't want you to die," she sobbed, clinging to him like a life preserver. "And I know you're going to, but I'm so scared…I'm so scared…" She wept into his shirt, resting her head against his chest. He just held her tighter to him, rocking he gently as his tears dripped softly on to the top of her head.

After a few minutes, she leaned back and sniffled. "We're kinda pathetic, aren't we?" she asked jokingly as she wiped her eyes.

Greg leaned over and kissed her gently. "Yeah, we are, but at least we're pathetic together." He stood up and offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed."

She took his hand and he gently pulled her up, wrapping one arm protectively around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you for being honest with me," she said, looking up at him.

He smiled down at her. "Thank you for being honest with me," he whispered, before leaning in and kissing her.

For the first time in weeks, both slept well.

* * *

_**A/N:** So all is good (well, better, anyways) in Greg and Sara land. And I promise you, it'll stay that way for a little while. The next chapter, in fact, is pretty much...well, not fluff, but close. Stay tuned...happiness is just around the corner._  



	28. Jump

**_A/N:_**_ A bit of a shorter chappie, sorry, but the past few have worn me out. All the raw emotion! I'm just kidding. Alright, usual disclaimer. Just as a warning, this chapter may seem a but random, but it sets everything up for the next chapter. And away we go..._

Chapter 28- Jump

"I don't wanna wake up one day  
And find out it's too late  
To do all the things I wanna do  
I'm sick of this place  
I wanna break free  
I'm so frustrated

I just wanna jump  
Don't wanna think about tomorrow  
Jump  
I just don't care tonight  
I just wanna jump  
Don't wanna think about my sorrow  
Let's go  
Forget your problems  
It's time to let them go  
Forget tomorrow  
I just wanna jump"

Jump by Simple Plan

Sara sat on the couch, feeling incredibly worn out. Two nights ago, she and Greg had finally come clean to each other and now…well, let's just call it emotional exhaustion. She and Greg had decided to take tonight off to sleep or whatever. Well, they weren't doing much sleeping. At the moment, she was sitting staring at the wall, while Greg was sitting Indian-style in the armchair, iPod blasting and eyes closed, head bobbing to music.

Sara groaned. She was beyond bored. She stood and marched over to where Greg sat. Reaching out and pulling his earphones off, she said, "Greg, I'm bored."

He glared at her, unsuccessfully trying to get his earphones back. "I'm sorry. What do you expect me to do about it?"

"How about we go out, have some fun? We never do that anymore," she whined, tugging at his hand.

Greg looked thoughtful. "You know, I could use some relaxation time. Alright, we'll go. I know the perfect place."

"Awesome, where?"

He winked as her. "Never you mind. Now, go make yourself even more beautiful."

Sticking her tongue out at him, Sara retreated to the bathroom to get ready.

* * *

The music was blasting so loudly that it made Sara wince. "This is your idea of relaxation?" she shouted at Greg over the music as they wove their way through the mass of bodies to the bar in one of Las Vegas' myriad of clubs. 

"Hell yeah!" he called back, his grip on her hand never lessening. "This used to be one of my favorite spots."

"Used to be? What changed?"

Greg grinned at her. "You became my girlfriend, and I no longer needed to go pick up chicks." His grin became more appreciative as he looked her up and down. "Did I tell you that you look amazingly sexy tonight?"

Sara rolled her eyes and tugged self-consciously on the black leather bustier she was wearing with a pair of jeans and stilettos. "Yeah, only about twenty times in the past half hour," she reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you do. And I'll bet all the guys in here are wondering what the hell a guy like me is doing with a foxy lady like yourself."

She laughed out loud. "I cannot believe you just referred to me as a 'foxy lady'!" she exclaimed. Her expression soured slightly as she tried unsuccessfully to make the bustier cover her entire stomach. "I feel like Catherine," she muttered.

"Yeah, well, you're a million times hotter than Cath will ever be," said Greg loyally, wrapping a protective arm around her waist as he saw a group of college frat boys ogling her.

"Oh, and why would that be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Because you're here with me, of course!" he said with a smirk. Sara shook her head and smacked him on the arm. "What, you don't think I'm hot?" he asked with a pout, playing up the puppy-dog eyes to the max.

"Oh, don't give me the puppy-dog eyes!" she begged. "You know I can't stand up to them!" Greg didn't relent. "Fine…you're exceptionally hot," she conceded, kissing him gently. And indeed, he did look hot. He wore, as usual, a par of light-colored loose-fitting jeans, paired with a light blue t-shirt that proclaimed, "Sex on TV only hurts if you fall off." The shirt was tight enough to show off his well-formed, if now a little too thin, frame, while at the same time not being too tight. His hair, crazily spiked, somehow completed the ensemble, just as his black Converse shoes complimented it.

Greg grinned at her, then turned to the bar thoughtfully. "I know I shouldn't, cuz of those wonderful drugs I'm taking…" he mused aloud. "But what the hell. You only live once, right?" Sara wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony of his statement, so she settled for shaking her head disapprovingly as he ordered them a round of tequila shots.

When they arrived, he turned back to her and held his glass up solemnly. "To forgetting our problems, even if just for tonight," he intoned.

She clinked her glass with his. "To forgetting."

* * *

Several rounds of shots later, Greg stood and pulled on Sara's hand. "C'mon, Sara, come dance with me!" he exclaimed, pulling her off her barstool. 

"Greg, no!" she protested, trying half-heartedly to pull away. "I don't know how to dance."

"I'll teach you. C'mon, it'll be fun," he said enthusiastically, dragging her onto the dance floor.

"I don't think I'm drunk enough for this," she muttered, following him nonetheless.

Once on the floor, he turned back to her. "Ok, let's wait for the song to change." They did, and Greg grinned when he heard the DJ announce the next song. It was "Don't Stop Movin'" by S Club.

"DJ's got the party started  
There's no end in sight  
Everybody's moving to the  
Rhythm that's inside  
It's a crazy world  
But tonight's the right situation  
Don't get left behind"

"Alright, now, I'm going to teach you the basic dance move," said Greg, moving in closer to her.

"What is it?" She asked nervously.

"Well, most people refer to it as grinding." She blinked blankly at him. He sighed resignedly. "See those girls over there? Just copy what they do."

"I can feel the music  
Movin' through me everywhere  
Ain't no destination, baby  
We don't even care  
There's a place to be  
If you need the right education  
Let it take you there"

Sara watched as the girls slithered all over their dance partners, gyrating their hips in ways that would make anyone with common decency blush. "Greg, I can't do that!" she hissed. "Not in public!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, pouting slightly. She glared defiantly at him. "Ok, fine," he sighed, reaching for her hand.

"Just go with the magic, baby  
I can see it there in your eyes  
Flow, stop the waiting  
Right here on the dance floor  
Is where you gotta let it go"

Sara felt bad for Greg, so she decided to just go for it. She began to "grind" as best as she could, moving her hips in one of the lap-dance-like techniques that Catherine had shown her once.

"See, there you go!" grinned Greg, laughing. They both danced for a while, listening to the music as it slowly took them over.

"Don't stop movin'  
Can you feel the music  
DJ's got us goin' around, round  
Don't stop movin'  
Find your own way to it  
Listen to the music  
Taking you to places that you've never been before  
Baby now"

Sara was getting the hang of it now. She wrapped her arms around Greg's neck as she literally ground her lower half onto his in a very suggestive way. She didn't know if his breathing was heavy because of the exertion of dancing, or because of her dancing.

"You can touch the moment  
Almost feel it in the air  
Don't know where we're goin', baby  
We don't even care  
Ain't no mystery, just use your imagination  
Let it take you there"

Greg's hands left Sara's waist and were slowly and steadily making their way downward. Sara found that, strangely, she didn't mind.

"Just go with the magic, baby  
I can see it there in your eyes  
Flow, stop the waiting  
Right here on the dance floor  
Is where you gotta let it go"

Greg's lips met Sara's and, as they danced, their tongues did a different sort of dance.

"Don't stop movin'  
Can you feel the music  
DJ's got us goin' around, round  
Don't stop movin'  
Find your own way to it  
Listen to the music  
Taking you to places that you've never been before  
Baby now"

Greg and Sara's bodies seemed as one as they moved together to the music in the smoky dimness of the club.

"Forget about your fears tonight  
Listen to your heart, let it touch the sky  
No need to reason why  
Just listen to the sound  
And it makes you come alive"

They stopped making out, but continued dancing, looking deep in each other's eyes, seemingly oblivious to the crush of bodies around them.

"Don't stop movin'  
Can you feel the music  
DJ's got us goin' around, round  
Don't stop movin'  
Find your own way to it  
Listen to the music  
Taking you to places that you've never been before  
Baby now"

Greg's lips met hers once more in a blaze of fiery passion as the song ended. His hands were starting to climb to places they shouldn't be in public. She pushed them away, laughing. "Down boy! Go get another drink, I'm going to go freshen up." She kissed him once more before heading to the bathroom.

After primping and making sure she looked alright, she joined Greg at the bar, where she noticed that he had already pounded down two more shots during her absence. She began to come up with a plan in her head. She ordered another drink for herself and Greg, taking care to only sip hers while he gulped his down.

"You want another?" he asked, speech just beginning to slur.

"Nah, you go on," she encouraged, flashing him a smile. He smiled back and ordered another tequila.

* * *

_**A/N:** From personal experience, drunk guy + sober girl equals never good. Small note also: I completely realize that no club in its right mind would ever use an S Club song. However, I thought the lyrics of the song (if not the song itself) fit into the chapter and what Greg was trying to get Sara to do._  



	29. This is the Night

_**A/N: **Not mine. That's all I really feel like saying this time around. Peace. _

Chapter 29- This is the Night

"When the world wasn't upside down  
I could take all the time I had  
But I'm not gonna wait  
When a moment can vanish so fast  
Cuz every kiss is a kiss  
You can never get back

Lift me up in your eyes  
If you told me that is what Heaven is  
Well, you'd be right  
I've been waiting forever for this  
This is the night

When the answer to all my dreams  
Is as close as a touch away  
Why am I here holding back  
What I'm trying to say?

Lift me up in your eyes  
If you told me that is what Heaven is  
Well, you'd be right  
Hold me close to your heart  
I would go with you to the ends of the earth  
And we'll fly  
I've been waiting forever for this  
This is the night

This is the night where we capture forever  
And all our tomorrows begin  
After tonight  
We will never be lonely again

Lift me up in your eyes  
If you told me that is what Heaven is  
Well, you'd be right  
Hold me close to your heart  
I would go with you to the ends of the earth  
And we'll fly  
I've been waiting forever for this  
This is the night"

This is the Night by Clay Aiken

Greg was thoroughly drunk, and Sara was thoroughly amused. He was swaying, supposedly to the music, but in reality, to whatever music was playing in his head. He was beaming at Sara, and his hand was caressing her thigh, and slowly creeping upwards.

Sara smiled back and kissed him, slowly and deeply. "My place or yours?" she whispered in his ear, licking it gently with her tongue.

He moaned softly. "Whichever is closest."

They got up and made their way outside, lips never leaving each other's. Sara started to head to where they had parked, but Greg stopped her. "We're too drunk to drive. Let's get a cab."

Instantly, a pang of guilt embedded itself in her stomach. She was probably sober enough by now to drive, but it would still be better for all involved to take a cab. Luckily, there were a few hanging around outside of the club, so they took one back to her place, since it was closer.

They couldn't keep their hands off each other on the ride over; Sara was mildly surprised that Greg didn't try and take her shirt off. In retrospect, she realized it was most likely not because he didn't want to, but because he was too inebriated at the time to figure out how.

When they reached her apartment complex, she paid the cab driver and then they progressed to her door. This progression was delayed by a five minute make-out session on the stairs.

When they finally reached the door, it took her a minute to get it open. Once it was open, they both just kind of stared into the darkness, unsure if they were ready to take the next step.

Then Greg turned to Sara and kissed her deeply. Somehow, though don't ask either of them how, they made it to the bedroom and managed to take both their shirts off. Greg's pale skin seemed to glisten in moonlight that streamed through the window and Sara stared, fascinated.

They both took off their jeans and stood there awkwardly, Greg in just his boxers and Sara in her bra and underwear. Then Greg gave Sara a slow grin. "I've been waiting forever for this," he whispered, coming forward and kissing her deeply. His hands fumbled with her bra as he gently nibbled on her lip. His kisses trailed down her neck and to her breasts.

Sara giggled. "You know, for being a virgin, you're awfully good at this."

Greg paused from what he was doing. "Just because I've never had sex doesn't mean that I've never had any experience. Besides," he said, laying a kiss on her stomach that made her arms break out in goose bumps, "I watch a lot of porn."

He picked her up and practically tossed her on the bed, pausing only to pull off his boxers before joining her. They kissed each other fiercely and hungrily, no longer sweet and deep but now with the fire of the moment.

Greg pulled back for a second and looked at Sara seriously. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, almost sounding sober. "After tonight, we can't go back."

"Who says I want to go back?" whispered Sara. "Believe me, I want this. Tonight. This is the night."

_Their mouths met again in a deep, shuddering kiss that had his heart flipping over inside his chest._

_She smelled of something secret, of seduction. Those quick, catchy gasps coming from her sliced through him like tiny silver knives. He wanted to bury himself in her until the world ended. And when her hands cruised over him, when those soft sounds of approval hummed in her throat as she explored him, he wondered if it already had._

_She scraped her nails over his belly, and had him quivering like a stallion. "I want you. I want you inside me. Tell me you want me."_

"_I do. I want you." He lowered his mouth onto hers once more. "From the first minute."_

_Her lips curved under his. "I know." She arched her hips. "Now." She rose over him, shook her hair back. And smiled. "Now," she said again._

_He moved fast, flipping her onto her back, pinning her body with his. "Now," he repeated and drove deep inside her._

_He watched the shock race over her face, felt the waves of it vibrate through him. They trembled there, each caught on some fine edge._

_And with her eyes locked on his, she began to move. A rising up, a falling away, so smooth, so fluid it was like sliding through silk. Her name echoed in his head, like a song, or a prayer. He clung to the echo of it, clung to the fraying threads of control as she shattered around him._

_She fell apart. Oh, God, the most wonderful sensation. A losing of self, then a gathering back. Her mind hazed. And with one last liquid sigh, she rode the final crest._

_Locking him close, she took him with her._

_

* * *

_

Sunlight pierced Greg's eyelids like thousands of needles stabbing through his retinas and into his brain. Groaning audibly, he rolled over and covered his head with his pillow. He had been having the best dream, where he and Sara had gone clubbing, and gotten wasted, and…

Suddenly, he sat straight up as reality dawned on him. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. Then his face took on the most peculiar shade of green and he just made it to the bathroom in time.

After puking his guts up, he went into the kitchen in search of coffee, and hopefully Sara. Instead, he found a glass of water, two aspirin and a note. He took the aspirin first, then read the note.

"Dear Greg-

Grissom called me in early. Triple homicide. If you're feeling up to it, we could really use your help. We'll talk about what happened last night later.

Love you,  
Sara"

Greg almost threw up again when he read the part about the previous night. So it hadn't just been a dream. They had really done it.

At that moment, Greg didn't think he had ever hated himself more. He might've given her HIV. She could have gotten a disease that would kill her. If he gave it to her, how was he going to live with himself?

These were the only thoughts that crossed his mind as he quickly showered, dressed, and went to meet her at the lab.

* * *

The moment he set foot in the lab, Grissom cornered him. "Greg, you shouldn't be here. You're not in any condition to work." 

"Griss, I'm fine."

"No, you're not, you're hung over, and I don't want you screwing up the results because you were drinking last night."

Greg looked at Grissom sharply. "Are you…angry that I got drunk last night?"

Grissom sighed. "Yes, I am. It was irresponsible, it was-"

"Good. But I bet you're not nearly as angry with me as you should be…I bet you're not as angry with me as I am."

Now Grissom looked concerned. "Greg, what—?"

Greg held up a hand. "Look, I gotta talk to Sara, alright? Then I'll be out of here until my shift starts tonight, and I promise you I won't be hung over by then."

Grissom shrugged, but moved aside. "She's in trace!" he called at Greg's retreating back.

Greg practically jogged to trace. "Hey, Hodges, I gotta talk to Sara, do you mind?"

Hodges looked up from the evidence he was processing. "Go ahead, Sanders, I'm not going to stop you."

Greg gave him a look that would have stopped a herd of charging rhinos in its tracks. "I meant in private, Hodges."

Hodges threw his hands up and stalked out of the lab, muttering angrily under his breath about being kicked out of his own lab. Greg closed the door behind him. "Sara?" he said, going and standing next to her.

"Yeah, Greg, what do you need?" she asked, not looking up from the fibers she was looking at underneath the microscope.

"Sara, we gotta talk. But before that, you have to go see a doctor. Now."

"I have six weeks, Greg," she said calmly, writing something on the pad of paper next to the microscope.

"What?" he asked, not comprehending.

She sighed and looked at him. "It takes six weeks for HIV to manifest itself enough to be present in blood tests."

Greg's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know that?" he asked quietly, leaning on the table.

"When you found out you had it, I did some research, just in case we decided to…you know," she said awkwardly, a faint blush visible on her cheeks.

"So you won't know for six weeks?" he reiterated, just to be sure. She didn't say anything, just nodded. Greg nodded as well, then turned to leave. Before he left, though, he turned back and said quietly, "If I gave it to you, I will never forgive myself." Then he opened the door and left.

* * *

_**A/N:** Text in italics is from Key of Light by Nora Roberts. Unfortunately, I'm not cool enough to come up with a good sex scene on my own, so I stole hers._  



	30. I Don't Want to Wait

_**A/N:** Anticipation...it's killing me! Just kidding. Usual disclaimer: I don't own them, merely exploit them. Read on, all ye faithful ones!_

Chapter 30- I Don't Want to Wait

"So you look at me from across the room  
You're wearing your anguish again  
Believe me, I know the feeling  
It sucks you into the jaws of anger  
So dig a little more deeply into my life  
All we have is this very moment  
And I don't want to do what his father did  
I want to be here now

I don't wanna wait  
For our lives to be over  
I want to know right now  
What will it be?  
I don't wanna wait  
For our lives to be over  
Will it be yes or will it be  
Sorry?"

I Don't Want to Wait by Paula Cole

Several weeks passed. Ironically, the event that had been meant to bring Greg and Sara even closer had instead forged a rift the size of the Grand Canyon between them. At work, they both avoided each other.

Actually, it had started as Greg avoiding Sara out of guilt, despite her insistence that she had wanted that night to happen, had in fact waited for that night. In turn, Sara, upon realizing that Greg was avoiding her, began avoiding him.

Grissom and the rest of the CSIs watched this strange dance with mounting concern. All of them realized that the precious time Greg had left should not be spent like this.

It was six weeks to the day when Grissom finally got fed up with it. Sara was taking a personal day, and he called Greg down to the meeting room for assignments. He handed out the slips of paper, expression carefully controlled. "Nick, Warrick, you've got a 419 over at the Tangiers. Suspicious circs. Vic apparently keeled over during an intense hand of Blackjack."

They both nodded and Nick grabbed the paper before they headed out, already arguing over who was driving.

"Cath, you're working solo. You've got what appears to be a B+E gone very wrong. It's on the edge of Clark County, so have fun."

She smiled wryly before taking the paper and leaving.

Greg was left waiting. "You said you had something for me, boss?"

"Yeah, here's your assignment."

Greg took the piece of paper and looked down at it in confusion. It read, "MAKE UP WITH SARA."

"Griss, what the—" Greg looked up. Grissom was gone. "Damnit," he muttered, standing up and looking at his watch. He groaned aloud and walked quickly to Grissom's office. Without knocking, he marched in. "Grissom, what the hell is this?" he asked, waving the piece of paper.

Grissom didn't even look up from his paper work. "It's your assignment, Greg."

"My assignment is to make up with Sara? Since when did our personal lives become the business of the lab?"

"Since you brought your fight into this lab, hence making for an extremely tense work environment." Grissom looked at Greg over the rim of his glasses. "Greg, you need to make this right, and now's your opportunity. Sara has the night off, and I want you to go over to her place and apologize until your face turns blue. Oh, and don't worry," he continued, looking down at the papers on his desk. "You'll be paid for it."

Greg wasn't backing down so easily, though. "I still don't see how this is any of your business."

"Goddamnit, Greg!" roared Grissom. "You made it my business when you let it interfere with your work!"

Greg was taken aback; he had never heard Grissom swear before.

Grissom paused before saying in gentler tones, "Greg, you're like a son to me. And I look at you and Sara, and I see how much this is hurting both of you, and I just want it to stop, ok? You two deserve happiness, but you two are also too stubborn to be happy. So yes, I'm stepping in, but I promise you, it's for the best."

Greg nodded slowly, then turned to leave. "Where are you going?" asked Grissom.

Greg paused. "To Sara's, of course."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Greg sat in Sara's apartment, on Sara's couch, staring at his folded hands and waiting for Sara to get home from wherever she was. He heard the door open and the sound of Sara setting her keys on the table in the foyer. Then he heard her walk to the living room, but he still didn't look up. 

She gasped when she saw someone in her house, then reached out a hand to steady herself against the wall when she realized who it was. "Jesus, Greg, you scared the shit out of me!" she exclaimed. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

"I used the key you gave me," he said quietly, meeting her eyes for the first time. "Sara, we have to talk."

"Believe me, Greg, I know. And maybe I should go first. I have some news."

Greg's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's up?" he asked.

She sighed and sat down. "I went to the doctor's today."

Greg was suddenly still, like a deer frozen in headlights. "And?" he whispered, fearing the answer.

"I don't have it. Greg, do you understand? You didn't give me HIV!"

For the first time in almost a month, Greg smiled, really smiled, that grin that he had that stretched from one ear to another and glowed brighter than the sun in the middle of summer. "Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed, reaching over and hugging her. "Thank God."

Sara hugged him back, then said, suddenly serious again, "Greg, there's more."

He sat back, smile fading slightly. "What is it?" he asked, eyes searching hers. "What's wrong?"

She smiled then, tears glinting in her eyes. "Nothing's wrong. It's…it's wonderful, in fact."

"Sara, what is it?" he asked, alarmed.

She leaned forward and took both his hands in her own. "Greg, I'm pregnant."

He stared at her in shock. "You're…what?" he sputtered, unable to believe it.

"I'm pregnant. Greg, we're pregnant."

Greg felt the smile slowly growing on his face as the words sunk in. "I'm gonna be a daddy?" he whispered, looking at Sara for conformation. She nodded, linking back tears of joy. "I'm gonna be a dad!" he shouted, jumping up and punching the air victoriously.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he sat down, suddenly somber. "Sara, what…what are the chances that the baby will…will have…"

She shook her head and cut him off, still smiling. "The baby won't have HIV, Greg. The only way it would have HIV is if I had it, but I don't."

Greg positively beamed before leaning in and kissing her. "You are the most beautiful woman on this planet," he whispered, serious again. "and if we're going to make this whole parenting thing work, I want to do it right."

"Greg, what--"

He got down on one knee. "Ok, so this is kinda anti-climactic, seeing as you're already wearing the ring, but Sara Sidle, will you marry me?" She stared at him in shock. "I promise I won't call off the engagement this time," he added hopefully.

"Greg, I thoughtwe couldn'tget married."

He didn't get up but he held her hand tightly. "Sara, we're going to be parents. This changes everything, but the one thing it doesn't change is my love for you." He took a deep breath. "Please. Be mine forever."

She kissed him deeply. "In that case, yes. I will marry you."

* * *

_**A/N:** AH! Happiness! YAY! Next chapter will be the wedding! (Can't wait!) Please review!_


	31. This I Swear

_**A/N: **AH! Such happiness! I don't think I can handle it. Anyways, this chapter is rated for EXCESSIVE WEDDING FLUFFINESS! So it's a bit of a break from, you know, AIDS and death and such. Yay. Usual disclaimer. Oh, the vows were stolen from some website (I googled "wedding vows"), the first song is _Beauty and the Beast_ from Beauty and the Beast the second song is _What Makes you Different_ by the Backstreet Boys, the third song is _This I Swear_ by Nick Lachey, and the Bible lesson is from my mom's ancient and decrepid _Revised Standard Version Bible_ (It's not even the NEW Revised standard version. Tells you how old it is.). Enjoy!_

Chapter 31- This I Swear

Sara stood alone in the small room, looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She could hardly believe that she was going through with this. Her stomach was full of butterflies, and she rested one hand on it, conscious of the thickening that indicated the growth of the baby within.

Her dress was beautiful; even she had to admit that. It was a floor-length ivory gown that fit her perfectly, emphasizing all her curves in just the right way. Her hair had been swept back and pinned up so that only one lone tendril curled next to her face. Her veil was amazing; it had been Catherine's grandmother's. The ivory lace was spun in a delicate pattern that included several golden threads that sparkled when they caught the light.

Still looking at herself, Sara spun slightly and could hardly believe that her reflection was really her; she looked so—dare she say it? —beautiful.

A knock on the door brought Sara back to reality. Catherine entered, dressed in a simple, peach-colored frock that made her look stunning without drawing attention from Sara.

"Oh my gosh, Sara," gasped Catherine. "You look so beautiful! Greg will be knocked off his feet when he sees you!"

Sara blinked once then said shakily, "Cath, I don't think I can do this."

Catherine frowned. "Don't you dare start saying that! Now, what's wrong, hm?"

Sara's eyes were wide; she honestly looked scared. "Cath, I'll break his heart. I wasn't meant for marriage. I—"

Catherine cut her off. "Sara, do you love him?" Sara nodded, mutely. "Well, I know for a fact that he loves you. You were meant for marriage, and when you look into Greg's eyes today, you'll know it, too."

Sara smiled, then asked shyly, "Do you really think I look pretty?"

"Honey, as your Matron of Honor, it is my sworn duty to tell you the truth on your wedding day."

Now Sara truly smiled and hugged Catherine. "Thanks, Cath. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Catherine shared her smile. "You're welcome…Oh, I almost forgot, here." She handed Sara a small, slim box.

Sara took it, brow furrowed in confusion, and opened it, gasping at what lay inside. It was a locket, a simple silver heart-shaped locket, but inlaid with gold in beautiful Celtic-looking patterns. "Oh, it's stunning," she breathed.

Catherine smiled. "It's from Greg. It was his mother's, apparently. He wanted you to have it. It can be your 'something old.'" Catherine took the necklace and fastened it around Sara's neck. "There," she said, stepping back. "Now your outfit's complete."

Sara touched the necklace wordlessly, and then embraced Catherine again.

Another knock broke through their embrace, and this time Nick strode into the room, looking handsome in his tux. "Hello, ladies," he said with a grin. "My, my, Sara, you clean up nice."

"The same could be said about you, Cowboy."

Nick grinned, then turned to Catherine. "Cath, you better get out there. Lindsey's freaking out a little." Catherine shared one more hug with Sara before hurrying out to calm the flower girl down.

Nick shook his head at Sara. "I can't believe you and Greg decided to use your dog as the ring bearer."

Sara shrugged, smirking. "What can I say? Some people love their pets."

Nick just shook his head again, then commented, "I see Greg gave you the necklace. It looks pretty."

"Yeah," said Sara quietly, hand automatically reaching for it.

"So, the necklace is your 'something old', the dress is 'something new', the veil's 'something borrowed', but what's blue?"

Sara grinned wickedly and turned, sweeping her veil out of the way to reveal a tattoo on her shoulder that read, in blue ink,

"Greg Sanders  
And  
Sara Sidle  
Forever"

Nick whistled appreciatively. "When did you get that done?"

Sara grinned even wider. "I have just four words for you: Bachelorette party and Jell-O shots."

Now it was Nick's turn to grin. A sudden knock on the door sounded and Grissom poked his head in. "Nick, you're supposed to be out there!"

"Better go!" Nick gave Sara a peck on the cheek before heading out.

Grissom stepped fully into the room. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Sara nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She took his arm and they proceeded to the back of the church to wait for the procession to begin.

For her wedding march, Sara had insisted on "Beauty and the Beast" from the Disney movie of the same name. It was one of her best memories as a kid, watching the movie and telling her parents that when she got married, she was going to walk down the aisle to that song. Now, her dream had come true, and it made it feel like her parents were there with her today. Of course, Greg had been slightly offended when he figured out that he was the "beast" in the song, but Sara reminded him that the Beast turned into a handsome prince, so Greg was happy.

Lindsey went first down the aisle, wearing a dress that matched Catherine's and scattering the rose petals on the way down.

"_Tale as Old as Time  
True as it can be  
Barely even friends  
Then somebody bends  
Unexpectedly"_

It was a long aisle, because it was a large church. They hadn't been planning on such a big wedding, but Ecklie had informed them that the Mayor himself was planning on attending, and majority of the Las Vegas police force as well. Sara had asked Brass why all the officers were coming, and he said it was because the Department was honoring both Greg and Sara for their "courageous work done on the force."

"_Just a Little change  
Small to say the least  
Both a little scared  
Neither one prepared  
Beauty and the Beast"_

In any case, as Lindsey went down the aisle, she tugged at the leash she was holding, forcing Shadow to follow her, the pillow containing the rings securely fastened around his neck. Next came Catherine, escorted by Nick. Greg had wanted Warrick as his second Best Man, but Warrick had insisted upon videotaping. Sara could see him in the first pew now, the red light on the video camera visible.

"_Ever just the same  
Ever a surprise  
Ever as before  
Ever just as sure  
As the sun will rise"_

Now, the music swelled and everyone stood and faced her. Tightening her grip on Grissom's arm, she began her walk down the aisle. She smiled and nodded at some of the more familiar faces, but stopped when she saw Greg standing at the front of the church, his spiky blonde hair never looking more handsome or manly. He looked absolutely stunning in his tux, the red rose boutonnière matching the roses in her bouquet.

"_Tale as old as time  
Tune as old as song  
Bittersweet and strange  
Finding you can change  
Learning you were wrong"_

Greg stared shamelessly as Sara moved toward him. She looked…amazing. Like an angel. His heart quickened, and, as she approached, letting go of Grissom's arm to take the last few steps by herself, he smiled gently at her, reaching out to take her hand.

"_Certain as the sun  
Rising in the east  
Tale as old as time  
Song as old as rhyme  
Beauty and the Beast"_

They turned to face the pastor, who smiled benevolently at them. He spoke up over the noise of people taking their seats. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, the Las Vegas Police Department, and the city of Las Vegas, to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony." He paused, then asked, "Who gives this woman to be married?"

Grissom stepped forward and squared his shoulders. "I do."

"If anyone had a valid reason why these two should not be married, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Greg held his breath. No one spoke.

"Let us take our reading from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians."

Greg squeezed Sara's hand gently and mouthed, "I love you," as the pastor read the lesson.

"If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge, if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give my body so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

"So faith, hope, love remain; but the greatest of these is love."

Sara smiled at Greg; this was it. Unshed tears glinted in both their eyes as they turned to face each other.

The pastor smiled at them, then asked Greg, "Gregory Hojem Sanders, do you take Sara Jane Sidle to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep her, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her so long as you both shall live?"

Greg looked Sara in the eyes and said, "I do."

The pastor asked Sara the same thing and she answered unflinchingly, "I do."

The pastor then turned to Greg and asked him to repeat after him. "I, Gregory Hojem Sanders…"

"I, Gregory Hojem Sanders…"

"Take Sara Jane Sidle to be my lawfully wedded wife."

"Take Sara Jane Sidle to be my lawfully wedded wife."

"To have and to hold from this day forward,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward,"

"For better or for worse,"

"For better or for worse,"

"For richer or poorer,"

"For richer or poorer,"

In sickness and in Health"

"In sickness and in Health"

"To love and to cherish"

"To love and to cherish"

"Til Death do us part."

"Til Death do us part."

The pastor once again turned to Sara and had her repeat the same thing. She went through it, eyes never leaving Greg's, her voice only breaking slightly on the "In sickness and in health" part.

Next came the rings. The congregation laughed slightly as Nick fumbled with the pillow, trying to get it off Shadow. When he finally got it off, he handed the rings to Sara and Greg.

Greg took Sara's hand and squeezed it, repeating after the pastor, "With this ring I thee wed; all my love, I thee give," while slipping the ring on her finger.

It was fairly simple, with a plain silver band and only one diamond, cut into the shape of a heart. She smiled down at it, then took Greg's hand and slid his plain silver band on while saying, "With this ring, I thee wed; all my love, I thee give."

The minister raised his hands over them in benediction and said, "Bless, O Lord, these rings, that they who give them and wear them may abide in peace, and continue until their life's end." To Sara and Greg he said, "Inasmuch as you have pledged the other your lifelong commitment, love, and devotion, and with the power invested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife." To a grinning Greg, he said, "You may kiss the bride!"

Greg leaned in and kissed Sara gently on the lips.

The church seemed to hold its breath as they kissed, and then erupted in applause once the pastor said, "It gives me great pleasure to be the first to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Greg Sanders."

Nick, Warrick, Grissom and Catherine cheered loudest of all, and Nick and Warrick called together, "Way to go, Greggo!"

Greg and Sara grinned at each other, then they proceeded down the aisle to the strains of "Ode to Joy," which Greg had chosen because he thought it was appropriate.

At the back of the church, Greg kissed Sara once more before they were swamped by well-wishers coming over to congratulate them.

* * *

It was almost an hour before the happy couple was able to be alone. They finally found themselves in the limo, on the way to their reception, which was being held in the Grand Ballroom at the Bellagio. 

Greg smiled at Sara as they sat down, the door closing behind them, signaling that they were finally alone. He leaned over and kissed her deeply and passionately, only backing off when she playfully smacked him.

"Down, boy, there's time for that later," she panted, pushing him off her and scooting over to get the champagne that was cooling in the ice bucket.

Greg reached around her and grabbed it, popping the cork before she could protest. "Sorry," he grinned, pouring her a glass. "I've always wanted to do that." Sara just shook her head and smiled, accepting the glass he offered her. He took one as well, and held it up in a toast. "To us," he said simply.

"To us."

They clinked glasses and drank a sip before kissing again. This time it was Sara who deepened the kiss, setting her glass aside and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. He tried to get up to put his glass away, but she pushed him back down and, straddling him quickly, began kissing him passionately and slowly.

Just as they were really getting into it, the driver said over the intercom, "Sir? Madame? We've arrived."

Greg swore loudly. "Alright, thanks." To Sara, he said, "We'll finish this later."

* * *

Nick got everyone's attention by standing and clinking his glass with his fork for silence. When everyone was quiet, he began. "So, as the best man, I was supposed to write a speech for today, but I've never been very good as writing speeches, so I decided to wing it. Thanks for coming today to see Greg and Sara get hitched." Everyone tittered. Nick grinned. "I know they appreciate it. And I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to throw in an interesting anecdote about them, but in all honesty, I don't know what I can tell you about them that y'all don't already know just by looking at them. Obviously, they love each other; even a blind man can see that!" Everyone chuckled appreciatively. 

"Well, one thing I can say about the groom here is that Greggo embodies the word persistence. I mean, it only took him what? Four years to get Sara to go out with him?" Nick paused before smiling and saying, "I guess that's why he asked her to marry him on their first date…he didn't want to wait another four years!"

Everyone laughed and even Greg grinned, though he looked slightly embarrassed.

"In any case," continued Nick, throwing an arm around Greg's shoulders, "These two make me believe in love again, so, good luck, and I wish you all the happiness in the world!"

As everyone applauded and whistled, Greg stood up, holding up a hand for silence. "Right, so I realize it's not traditional for the groom to give a speech on his own wedding day, so I'll keep this short. Well, see, Nick forgot to mention a very big point, and that would be that my time here with Sara is limited."

The entire crowd fell silent as the realization of what he was saying hit them.

"But I just want you all to know that I plan to make the best of it." The crowd was still silent, so Greg grinned nervously and said, "Um…that's all I wanted to say. Well, that and I love Sara Sidle—Er, well, it's Sanders now, isn't it?—with all of my heart."

The first person to respond was Grissom, who stood and started to clap. Nick, Warrick and Catherine joined him, and then everyone else stood and applauded as well.

After the speeches, the cake was cut, and after the cake came the dancing. Greg took Sara's hand and led her to the center of the dance floor. Once there, he nodded to the DJ, who started the song.

Sara began to cry almost as soon as she heard the music. It was that stupid Backstreet Boys song, "their" song from their first date. She shook her head in reproach at Greg, who just laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

As they danced, so close, so slowly, he whispered the chorus in her ear, hot breath tickling her neck.

"What makes you different  
Makes you beautiful  
What's there inside you  
Shines through to me  
In your eyes I see  
All the love I'll ever need  
You're all I need, oh Girl  
What makes you different  
Makes you beautiful to me"

When the song ended, everyone applauded once more before joining them on the dance floor. Greg and Sara danced together for a few more dances, then Greg danced with Catherine, Sara danced with Warrick and Nick, and, for one memorable dance, Greg danced with Nick.

During the next song, while Sara was dancing with Grissom, Greg slipped away and headed to where the DJ sat. Grabbing a microphone, he tapped it once and said, "Alright people, now's the moment you've all been waiting for." Everyone turned and looked at him.

"Sara, could you join me up here, please?" She did, albeit warily, and sat in the chair he indicated.

"Ok, folks, I've got some things to say to this lovely lady of mine, but I'm not so good with my own words, so I've decided to borrow someone else's." He nodded to the DJ, who started the CD. As the song started playing, Greg began singing. He had a surprisingly good voice.

"You're there by my side in everyway  
I know that you will not forsake me  
I'd give you my life without thinking twice  
Your love is all I need, believe me  
I may not say it quite as much as I should  
But when I say I love you, darlin', that means for good  
So open up your hear and let me in

And I will love you  
Til forever  
Until death do us part  
We'll be together  
So take my hand  
And hold on tight  
And we'll get there  
This I swear

I'm wondering how I ever got by  
Without you in my life to guide me  
Wherever I go, the one thing that's true  
Is everything I do I do for you  
I may not say it half as much as I should  
But when I say I love you, darlin', that means for good  
So open up your heart and let me in

And I will love you  
Til forever  
Until death do us part  
We'll be together  
So take my hand  
And hold on tight  
And we'll get there  
This I swear

And whenever you get needy  
Just reach out for me  
I'll never let you down  
My love

And I will love you  
Til forever  
Until death do us part  
We'll be together  
So take my hand  
And hold on tight  
And we'll get there  
This I swear"

Sara was crying freely by the time he finished. He handed the microphone back to the DJ, then went to her and kissed her deeply, to thunderous applause. After kissing her, Greg turned to everyone and said loudly, "Alright, folks, if you don't mind, I'd like to head off with my bride now." Everyone laughed loudly.

Greg reached down and scooped Sara up, straightening with her in his arms. "Greg!" she squealed, still crying slightly. "Put me down, right now!"

"Nope," he said cheerfully, carrying her out of the hotel and down to the waiting limo. "You're mine forever, and I'm not letting go."

They settled into the limo with Sara lying with her head in Greg's lap. He stroked her hair gently.

"Do you want some champagne?" she asked, looking up at him. "Just because I can't have any doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"No," whispered Greg, kissing her temple. "This time, I want to remember making love to you."


	32. I'll Cover You

**_A/N:_**_ Ah, more fluffiness! Actually, this chapter is full of wonderful bittersweet, angsty fluff (if there is such a thing). Usual disclaimer. Song is _Time After Time_ by so many different artists that I can't even figure out who originally sang it. Oh, small thing to point out that I Never Promised brought up in a review. According to la doctura de mi famillia, today, condoms will prevent the spread of HIV, and there are also drugs that one can take to help prevent it spreading. Anyways...Enjoy!_

Chapter 32- I'll Cover You

"Live in my house, I'll be your shelter  
Just pay me back with one thousand kisses  
Be my lover and I'll cover you  
Open your door, I'll be your tenant  
Don't have much baggage to lay at your feet  
But sweet kisses I've got to spare  
I'll be there and I'll cover you

I think they meant it  
When they said you can't buy love  
Now I know you can rent it  
And least you are my love

All my life, oh my life  
I've longed to discover  
Something as true as this is

So with a thousand sweet kisses  
(Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes)  
If you're cold and you're lonely  
With a thousand sweet kisses  
(Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear)  
If you've got one nickel only  
With a thousand sweet kisses  
(Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes)  
When you're worn out and tired  
With a thousand sweet kisses  
Oh, when your heart has expired

Oh, lover, I'll cover you  
Oh, lover, I'll cover you  
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes  
Five hundred twenty-five thousand seasons of Love  
I'll cover you"

I'll Cover You(Reprise) from Rent

Greg stretched lethargically and arched his back in a cat-like manner before sitting up. Sara still lay next to him, a bit of hair fluttering in and out of her mouth as she snored. He leaned over and carefully brushed it away before placing a light kiss on her temple. This wasn't enough to rouse her from her slumber, so he got up by himself, padding through the house to the coffee machine, which he turned on, and then to the T.V., which he also turned on but muted, before retreating back to the coffee machine for his coffee, and finally ending up on the couch.

When he got bored, he turned the T.V. off, choosing instead to watch the sunrise out on the front porch. He stared out at the red sun as it slowly rose, barely even looking over when he heard Sara join him.

"Good morning," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his wais and kissing him gently on the cheek. When he didn't turn to her, she rested her chin on his shoulder and asked, "What're you thinking about this early in the morning?"

He finally turned and looked at her. "Sara, do you believe in heaven?"

The question caught her off guard. She gave him a strange look. "I dunno, why?"

He shrugged and turned back to the rail, leaning against it. "When I was little, my grandpa used to visit and he'd tell me all kinds of stories about Odin and Thor and Loki and all the other Norse gods, and about the great Hall of Warriors, Valhalla, where all the fallen would find eternal rest with the All-Father. I believed every word he said. While most kids grew up praying to Jesus, I would pray to Odin. Even as I grew older, I still believed. Even after all my father did, I still believed. But now…"

He turned back to her, and his big brown eyes were full of fear. "Now I don't know what to believe."

Sara sighed and took both his hands in hers. "Greg, I don't know what I believe in religion-wise, but I'll tell you what I know. I know that when you die, you will go someplace, call it Heaven if you want, or Valhalla, but either way…and when I die, I will come find you there, and we'll be together forever. If you can't believe in anything else, believe in that."

Still Greg looked doubtful. "But how do you know?" he insisted.

She placed one hand on his chest, over his heart. "Because I love you, Greg. As sure as your heart beats, I love you, and even when your heart stops beating, I will go on loving you, until the end of time. Do you honestly think a love that strong can ever die?"

Greg just leaned over and kissed her intensely, his mouth ravaging hers. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. They staggered back to the bed, only pausing for Greg to grab another box of condoms.

* * *

Greg and Sara were honeymooning at Papa Olaf's old house in Northern California. It was the only place that they could afford, which was only because it was free. When Papa Olaf had died, he willed all his earthly possessions to his only living relative, Greg, who had never found it in his heart to sell the cabin that he had lived in for a good part of his life. Now he was glad he hadn't, for it gave him and Sara a place where they could be alone, even if just for two weeks. 

As it was, after the first few days, Greg and Sara slipped into a pleasant routine. Their days consisted of sleeping, eating, spending time together, and…ah, let's call it "exercise," shall we? As the days progressed, however, Greg began to spend at least an hour each day by himself, holed up in the study. Sara had no idea what he was doing, but she knew that he'd tell her when he was ready.

On their final night there, Greg suggested that they take a walk through the woods. The suggestion came out of nowhere. They had just finished dinner (Ramen noodles and slightly burnt garlic bread, the extent of their combined culinary skills), and had been discussing what time to leave the next day. All of a sudden, Greg leaned forward and asked, "Hey, Sara, how would you like to go for a walk after dinner?"

Sara raised her eyebrows. "A walk? To where?"

He shrugged. "You know, out in the woods."

She gave him a strange look, but nodded. "Ok, why not?"

A smile lit his face and he leaned in and kissed her. "Awesome. I can show you my favorite place from when I was a kid." He stood up and made an exaggerated bow. "It's what you've always wanted, a trip down memory lane with your tour guide, Greg Sanders."

She couldn't help but grin even as she shook her head at his antics. "I'll just go change, then."

"You do that. I'll get the rest of the stuff together."

She stopped and turned back to him. "Stuff? What stuff?" Greg just winked and grinned. Sara glared at him. "Fine, be that way."

She stalked off toward their bedroom, Greg's voice calling after her, "Ok, I will!"

A few minutes later, Greg and Sara were walking hand-in-hand through the forest surrounding the cabin. Greg had packed the mysterious "stuff" into a backpack, which he had slung over one shoulder. Though she would never admit it, Sara was dying to know what was in that stupid backpack and what it was that Greg had planned.

They kept walking, walking for so long that she began to fear that Greg didn't have any idea where he was going. He finally stopped her in the center of a small clearing. "Well, this is it," he said, setting the backpack down on the ground.

Sara surveyed the clearing. "This is…nice," she said lightly.

He grinned. "You're wondering why the hell this is my favorite place, right?"

She flushed slightly. "No, of course not. I mean, I assume it has some kind of special value to you or something…"

"You really shouldn't assume things," he whispered, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. "So it doesn't have any significant meaning whatsoever?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

His dark eyes gleamed with laughter. "No, it does."

She just shook her head. "Greg, you're incorrigible."

Leaning in and kissing her, he whispered, "Yeah, but you married me anyway."

She pulled away, walking around the perimeter of the clearing. "Yeah, which doesn't say a lot about my mental state." She paused and looked back at him. "So, what's the story behind this place? What makes it so special?"

Greg shrugged and stared at the ground, suddenly tense. Sensing the abrupt anxiety, Sara came over to him, rubbing his back soothingly. "Hey, it's ok, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I do." He looked up at the sky, then back at her. "Do you know the story of Saint Hubert?" Looking frankly bewildered, Sara shook her head. "Well, legend has it that Hubert wasn't such a good guy until something happened that changed his life forever. He was hunting one day and he saw this magnificent stag. He went to shoot it, but it turned to him and he saw that fixed between the stag's antlers was a crucifix. Legend then says he fell to his knees praising God and lived the rest of his life as a good and pious man."

Greg paused, looking back up at the sky and sighed deeply. "When…when I came to live here, I wasn't such a good kid." He snorted. "Ok, that's bull, I was a regular juvenile delinquent. I got into some bad shit…drugs, booze, you name it, and chances are I did it, and this was all before high school. I was…I was pretty screwed up. I'm not using what my dad did as an excuse, but it did fuck me up pretty badly.

"Well, one night, I was out here, and I looked up and standing there was this dear. Now, don't worry," he grinned, eyes twinkling. "There wasn't a cross or something fixed between its antler. In fact, it didn't have antlers because it wasn't a stag; it was a hind, a doe. And standing there with it was this tiny little fawn. And I dunno," he said reminiscently. "I don't know what it was about this deer and its fawn, but from that day on, I was clean and sober. I went from straight-F student the last year of junior high to valedictorian of my high school class." He continued looking up at the sky. "And this has been my favorite spot ever since."

Sara squeezed his arm wordlessly, looking up at the sky as well. "Oh, wow, you have the best view of the stars here."

He grinned at her. "That's another reason why I love it here. And," he continued, walking over to where he had abandoned the backpack, "that's why I packed some blankets. I figured we could do some serious stargazing." He pulled a blanket out and spread it on the ground. "God, this feels like a scene from A Walk to Remember," he muttered, making a face.

Sara laughed aloud. "Ok, firstly, you watched A Walk to Remember?"

Greg pretended to look insulted. "Are you trying to say I have no cinematic taste?"

She sat on the blanket and smirked at him. "I don't have to say it; it's a known fact." He pouted and sat down with a huff. "Besides, this is better than A Walk to Remember because, if you remember, they had to have separate blankets because of her overprotective father."

"Or because she was a prude," smirked Greg, earning himself a smack from Sara. "What? Somebody had to say it!"

She just shook her head, snuggling into him as they looked at the stars. She pointed out the Little Dipper and Greg found Ursa Major, though he called it Odin's Wain. They both just kind of watched the stars in silence for a bit,

"Hey Sara?" said Greg after a little while.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I want to make you a promise."

She rolled over on to her elbow and looked at him. "Ok, I'm listening. What are you promising me?"

"After I die, I promise you that whenever you look up at the stars, you'll see me. No matter where I am, Heaven or Hell or somewhere in between, whenever you look up at the stars, I'll be there."

Sara was silent for a minute, then she said quietly, "Ok. I'll hold you to that."

He nodded, smiling sadly. "Ok." They were both quiet for a while before Greg suddenly jumped up. "You wanna dance?" he asked, reaching down to help her up.

"What? Here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Sure, why not? This night can't possibly get any cornier!"

"Well, for starters, we don't have any music."

Greg rolled his eyebrows exaggeratedly before going over to the backpack and pulling out a portable boom box. "I came prepared." He walked back over and held his hand out once more. "C'mon, we'll be dancin' in the moonlight," he grinned.

Sara couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm and clichéd use of song lyrics. "Fine," she accepted, taking his hand. "Just as long as we don't have to dance to that song."

Greg grinned. "No, I promise we don't have to."

They stood in the center of the clearing and Greg pushed play. The music filled the previously soundless woods, and the two danced slowly in silence, listening to the music. Sara knew enough by now to listen to the words.

"Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,And I think of you  
Caught up in circles confusion  
Is nothing new  
Flashback warm nights  
Almost left behind  
Suitcases of memories,  
Time after Sometimes  
You picture me  
And I'm walking too far ahead  
You're calling to me, and I can't hear  
What you've said  
Then you say go slow  
I fall behind  
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time

After my picture fades and darkness has  
Turned to gray  
Watching through windows you're wondering  
If I'm OK  
Secrets stolen from deep inside  
The drum beats out of time

If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time

You said go slow  
I fall behind  
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
Time after time  
Time after time  
Time after time"

Sara felt the tears slipping down her face as she listened to the heart-wrenching lyrics.

"Sara, sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you cry," said Greg worriedly, wiping off her tears with his thumb.

"I'm just crying because it still amazes me."

"What still amazes you?"

"It still amazes me that you really are mine, and that you really will be there time after time."

Greg looked at her seriously. "I won't just be there time after time, I'll be there every time. Forever." He kissed her gently and sweetly. "Always know that."

"I will."

They lay back down, Greg's arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest. "Sara?" he said after a few moments.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to know that I've been up to this past week?"

She looked at him. "Only if you want to tell me."

"I started to make a list. You know, of all the thing I want to do before I die."

"Greg--" she started, but he cut her off.

"The only problem was, the only thing on the list was to spend every second with you."

Sara smiled sadly. "I think we can arrange that, Greg," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

They were silent for a minute before Greg broke the silence once more. "You know what I love about the stars?"

"What?"

"I don't know, it's weird, but somehow, they make me feel like I'm not so alone."

Sara gripped his hand tightly. "You will never be alone again, Greg." She sat up and looked him straight in the eye. "We'll be together forever."

He kissed her. "I know. Believe me, I know."


	33. Kiss Me at Midnight

**_A/N:_**_ Ah, yet another fluffy chapter! This one's full of New Year's Fluffiness, written actually on New Year's Eve--which might explain the randomness. Usual Disclaimer...and away we go! _

Chapter 33- Kiss Me at Midnight

"Kiss me at midnight  
Dance until the morning light  
Party into the New Year  
All of our friends are here  
And when the timing's right  
Kiss me at midnight

I've been waiting for the special night  
To be with you  
The colors of Christmas are still shining bright  
And I know what we're gonna do  
Anticipating, music is playing  
The magic is in the air  
All through the season  
You've been the reason  
I have so much love to share

Kiss me at midnight  
Dance until the morning light  
Party into the New Year  
All of our friends are here  
And when the timing's right  
Kiss me at midnight

Kiss...  
Kiss me at midnight  
Kiss...

We've been making promises in the dark  
Our resolutions  
As a brand new year is about to start  
And we're together.  
Celebrating, no more waiting  
Our time has arrived  
The beat in my heart  
As the countdown starts  
Just look into my eyes

Kiss me at midnight  
Dance until the morning light  
Party into the New Year  
All of our friends are here  
And when the timing's right  
Kiss me at midnight

Baby, it's New Year's Eve  
Time we can believe  
In making wishes  
Dreams come true  
Just for me and you

Kiss me at midnight  
Dance until the morning light  
Party into the New Year  
All of our friends are here  
And when the timing's right  
Kiss me at midnight  
Kiss me at midnight  
Dance until the morning light  
Party into the New Year  
All of our friends are here  
And when the timing's right  
Kiss me at midnight"

Kiss Me at Midnight by Nsync

Looking back, Sara would never remember if she talked Greg into letting them have a New Year's Eve party, or vice-versa, but either way, when the day rolled around, both realized they were in over their heads. It had actually been Catherine's idea. She had suggested that they throw a combination New Year's/housewarming party for the new house they had just bought.

It was a cute house, a modest townhouse in a nice suburb not too far from the lab or the hospital. Greg had been wary to buy a new house, worried as always about the limited funds they had, but Sara had managed to convince him that they needed more room for their child.

Either way, neither of them had any clue what to have at a party, since most of the parties Greg went to contained loud, angry music and illegal drugs, neither of which would sit well with the CSIs and police officers coming over to their house, and the only parties Sara remembered involved lots of drinking, which she wasn't allowed to do. With no alternatives left, they turned to the only person they knew who would know how to plan a party: Catherine. She was more than happy to help them out, helping them buy accessories and food and everything else, but when it came to setting up, they were on their own.

Henceforth, when Sara woke Greg up at eight o'clock in the morning on New Year's Eve to help decorate, he wasn't too happy. "Sara, the doctor says I need rest," he complained, sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers and an old white t-shirt. "I'm not getting much rest by being up and decorating."

Sara glared at him. "You're also not being much of a help by sitting there and complaining, now are you?" she snapped. "Get over here and help me hang this up. Then go make yourself useful in the kitchen!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" said Greg, saluting her before shuffling over to help her hang yet another brightly colored sign that proclaimed, "Happy New Year!" He stepped back to admire their handiwork. "Sara, I think you and Cath went a bit overboard at the party store," he commented, looking around the family room and living room. "I mean, it's nice that we're wishing everyone a happy new year, but do they really have to see a sign saying so every two feet?"

Indeed, no matter where one looked in the downstairs of the house, he would see at least five, if not more, cheerfully bright and shiny posters glaring back at him.

Sara, in turn, glared at Greg. "I don't think we went overboard," she said, still giving him the evil eye. "Besides, didn't I ask you to go make yourself useful in the kitchen?"

"Actually, you more or less commanded it," he muttered, ducking into the kitchen to avoid the roll of tape that she flung at him. "Hey, Sara," he called, eyeing the directions Catherine had written out for various hors d'oeuvres. "Are you sure you want me to attempt this?"

"Greg," she said through gritted teeth. "I am in the middle of blowing up balloons, setting up tables, silverware, and other such things, and I am pregnant. Today is not the day to test me."

"Alright," he said, shrugging. "But if we have to call the fire department, it's your fault." He grinned cheekily as he heard the various swear words she was muttering, before getting to work.

Several hours later, Greg called Sara into the kitchen to view the food he had made (miraculously enough, without burning anything down). She blinked at the unidentifiable brown goo bubbling in the pot on the stove, stared in shock at the faintly green paste that occupied a bowl, and wrinkled her nose in disgust at whatever it was that was cooking in the oven. "Um, Greg…" she started, unsure how to break it to him.

"Look, I followed the directions exactly!" he said, waving the recipe at her. "Well, except for one thing…it said soda, and I wasn't sure what type to use, so I used Coke. I hope that's ok."

Sara stared at him, dumbstruck. "Greg, it meant baking soda, not that kind of soda!" she exclaimed.

"Oohhh…" he said, nodding slowly. "That explains a lot."

Sara rubbed her forehead. "Now what are we going to do for food?" she asked.

Greg shrugged. "I didn't see the point of making all this fancy crap anyway. I vote we go with the best party food there is, chips and beer."

Sara opened her mouth, about to yell at him, then paused. "That may actually not be such a bad idea. I mean, who doesn't like chips and beer?"

Greg grinned, already heading to his room to change. "Looks like we're making a trip to the grocery store."

* * *

An hour later, everything was ready. Bowls of chips and pretzels were placed strategically throughout the rooms, the beer was chilling in the fridge, and Greg was breaking out his CD collection. He had volunteered to DJ, and Sara had agreed, provided he played holiday-type music, and absolutely no Marilyn Manson, Black Flag, or anything that Grissom wouldn't listen to. This provided a challenge for Greg, who spent close to an hour digging through his CDs before finding a few holiday CDs he had been given a few years ago. 

Once Sara was satisfied that everything was ready, she disappeared upstairs to get ready. Greg remained downstairs, only going up when she yelled for him. She needed help zipping up the zipper on her dress. She then proceeded to demand what he was planning on wearing. When he had looked down at his clothes (A Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of black jeans), wondering what was wrong with them, he thought she was going to blow a gasket.

Making a hasty retreat to his closet, he decided on a simple black button-down shirt paired with nice black pants, with white pin stripes, and a pair of black and white wingtips. The finally accessories on his outfit were a solid white tie and a black and white fedora. All in all, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he gelled his hair, he didn't think he looked half-bad.

The sound of the doorbell brought him out of his reverie, and he headed downstairs to let Nick and his girlfriend in.

For the next half hour, Greg alternated between answering the doorbell and making polite conversation with all the guests. When everyone had finally arrived, he slipped into the living room, joining Warrick and Nick, who were conversing loudly about who was going to win the Rose Bowl.

As the night went on, he and Sara visited with everyone, even Ecklie, though that conversation was pretty forced on Greg's part. They hung out with the lab techs, though Sara felt slightly left out of their casual camaraderie, and with the CSIs, though Greg felt slightly left out when they discussed various cases.

As it was, the night progressed, the beer flowed freely, and needless to say, by the time eleven o'clock rolled around, most people were at varying stages of drunkenness. There were some who, like Greg and Sara, had decided to abstain from drinking, and it was at this point in time that the true comedy of the evening began.

Greg and Sara had decided not to drink because they remembered all too well what had occurred the last time they got drunk. Instead, they watching with mounting hilarity as their friends became more and more inebriated. Someone, most likely Nick, had decided to turn the living room into a mini dance club. This would have been fine, except no one decided to tell the people already in the living room.

So there was Nick dancing it up with his girlfriend, and then there's Captain Jim Brass, watching them and wondering what was going on. Luckily enough for Nick, to save him from looking like a complete moron, more people decided to dance.

Now, for those who do not realize, drunken dancing is not at all like sober dancing, or even buzzed dancing. Drunken dancing involves every couple choosing a different dance to do, and all of them doing it at the same time, despite the fact that the song playing doesn't go along with any of the types of dancing that they chose.

Greg grabbed Sara's hand and dragged her into the room. "C'mon, let's dance!" he shouted over the music.

"Alright," she agreed, laughing. "What type of dancing should we do? Salsa? The tango? Maybe the rumba?"

Greg grinned. "How about we just dance, alright?"

"I suppose…" she said, smiling up at him. They danced for a while, only pausing to break out the champagne when it reached five minutes until midnight. Then they stood waiting, watching the TV, which was broadcasting the countdown, live, from the Strip.

Greg's fingers wove with Sara's as they stood, and he looked around the room with a smile. This was his family. These were his friends.

The countdown began at ten seconds, and everyone counted along. "10…9…8…"

"I resolve to live for the moment," whispered Greg to Sara.

"7…6…5…"

"I resolve to make every second of every day count," she whispered back to him.

"4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!"

Greg leaned in and kissed Sara. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and deepening the kiss. Then they broke apart and turned to watch who else was kissing.

Nick and his girlfriend were kissing, no surprise there, and neither Greg nor Sara was particularly surprised when Catherine gave Warrick a kiss, but both chuckled appreciatively when she also gave Hodges a peck on the cheek, mush to his embarressment. They watched as everyone wished everyone else a happy new year, and then Greg spoke up over the din. "Alright, so I realize that some of you are not in the best driving condition, so if you want to crash here tonight, that's fine. Grab a couch, a chair, whatever."

To Sara, he said, "We, on the other hand, are going to go upstairs, and then I want to wish you a proper Happy New Year."

Sara blushed. "Greg, we can't do that! Not while everyone's here!"

Greg grinned wickedly at her. "Oh, but we can. There's a lock on our bedroom door for a reason." He leaned in and whispered to her, "You're the one who resolved to make every second count."

She smiled at him, then took his hand and led him upstairs.


	34. Believe

**_A/N: _**_So...another kinda random chapter, though this one does actually further the plot. Usual disclaimer, once more...and ONWARD!_

Chapter 34- Believe

"Wanna hold my wife when I get home  
Wanna tell the kids they'll never know  
How much I love to see them smile  
Wanna make a change right here, right now  
Wanna live a life like you somehow  
Wanna make your sacrifice worthwhile

Everything is gonna be alright  
Everything is gonna be alright  
Everything is gonna be alright  
Be strong, believe

(Think about the love inside, the strength of heart)  
Everything is gonna be alright  
(Think about the heroes saving life in the dark  
Everything is gonna be alright  
(Think about the chance I never had to say)  
Everything is gonna be alright  
(Thank you for giving up your life that day)  
Be strong, believe"

Believe by Yellowcard

So it was that Greg and Sara's days settled into a simple routine. They spent as much time together as possible outside of work, and even at work they took their breaks with each other. Everyone who knew them had to agree that married life seemed to agree with them. Never had either been happier.

Of course, as with all of the best-made plans, this routine was soon interrupted by a surprise that neither of them foresaw.

It began one late afternoon in January. Greg was late as usual for work, and hence was hopping around the house trying to put a sick on while at the same time attempting to brush his teeth. It was at this moment that the phone rang. Greg mentally groaned as he grabbed it and said through a mouthful of toothpaste, "He-wo?"

A clipped voice on the other end said politely, "This is Ann Thompson from Social Services calling for a Mr. Gregory Sanders."

Spitting his toothpaste in the sink, Greg said in clearer tones, "This is he. What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Mr. Sanders, are you free to come into our office tomorrow? An issue has arisen with a little girl, Nicola Hillsburg."

Greg stopped what he was doing. "What's wrong? Is she ok?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders, but I cannot answer any questions over the phone."

He swallowed, hard. "Sure, I can come over tomorrow. What time?"

"Anytime before six will be adequate. Do you need directions to our office?"

"No, thank you ma'am. Good-bye." He hung up the phone and stared at it, a million possibilities running through his head.

He then did the only thing that made sense for him to do; he went to go find Grissom. He drove to work in a daze, and, hardly even realizing what he was doing, burst into the meeting room, interrupting Grissom in mid-sentence. "Griss, I need to talk to you. Now. Outside."

Grissom gave Sara a bewildered look, which she returned, before he stood and followed his lab tech outside. Greg was clearly agitated, shifting his weight and fidgeting. When they were outside and the door was shut, Grissom began, "Greg, what—"

"Something's happened, Griss. Something's happened to Nicola." Panic laced Greg's voice, and his eyes were wide with fear. "They won't tell me what happened, and I'm so worried, and…"

"Whoa, Greg, slow down! What happened?"

Greg took a ragged breath before starting over. "I was at home and Social Services called. They said that an 'issue' has arisen with Nicola, and that I have to go to their office tomorrow. I asked what happened, but they wouldn't tell me." He looked worriedly at the older man. "You gotta help me, Griss," he begged.

"Alright, alright," said Grissom placatingly. "I'll see what I can find out. In the meantime, you had better get to work. And you can have tomorrow off if you need to."

"Thanks, Griss," said Greg with a sigh of relief. He looked over his shoulder into the meeting room. "Er…I'd better let you get back to your meeting. Sorry to barge in like that."

"Never apologize for needing me, Greg," said Grissom gently. "Now go process some DNA."

"Yes sir," said Greg, turning and going to the DNA lab.

Grissom frowned deeply. After he had finished his meeting and given out all the assignments, he made a beeline to his office, calling up his contacts at Social Services. They couldn't tell him much, but they were able to tell him one crucial thing, one crucial thing that may help explain things to Greg.

After he found this out, he went and found Greg, who was in the DNA lab. "Oh, hey, Grissom," called Greg over the music. He quickly turned it down. "What can I do for you?"

"Greg, we need to talk."

Instantly, Greg was serious. "Alright, what's going on? Were you able to reach someone at Social Services?"

Grissom sighed. "Yes, but my contact couldn't tell me much. The only thing that she could tell me was that…" He faltered.

"Griss, what is it? What happened?"

"Greg, Melissa is dead."

Greg sat down, hard. He shook his head, unable to believe it. "No, it can't be." He looked up at Grissom, tears for his friend welling in his dark eyes. "How? What happened?"

Grissom sighed and sat down as well. "There was an accident. I don't know all the details, but somehow, their house caught on fire. Melissa died saving Nicola." Grissom paused and watched as Greg took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "Do you want to go home?"

Greg looked up, brown eyes unreadable. "No, I'll be fine. Besides, there's a ton of evidence to run."

Grissom frowned, a line creasing his forehead. "Greg, it's ok to go home. I'll get the day shift tech to cover you."

Shrugging, Greg stood up. "No, really, Griss, I'm better off here. What am I going to do at home? Sit and dwell on it? I'll be useful here, and it'll keep my mind off it." He gave Grissom a small grin, and it was this gesture that truly reassured Grissom that Greg was going to be ok. Greg walked over to the microscope, calling over his shoulder, "When Sara gets back from her scene, will you send her in here?"

"Sure, Greg," said Grissom, standing and leaving. He went into his office and sat down, staring blankly into space. He had just talked to Melissa at Greg's wedding. How could she be dead? Vaguely, he wondered what Melissa's death would mean for Nicola, and what it all had to do with Greg. He sighed and shuffled the papers on his desk. He would simply have to wait and see.

* * *

Greg arrived at the Las Vegas Social Services office at exactly 4:30 pm the next day. He went inside and told the receptionist who he was and why he was there. She told him to wait a few minutes, and that someone would be with him shortly. He didn't have to wait long before a short African-American woman joined him. Extending her hand to shake, she said, "Greg Sanders? I'm Ann Thompson from Child Welfare. We spoke on the phone." 

Shaking her hand, Greg offered her an uneasy grin. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm ready to help in whatever way I possibly can."

Nodding, she led him to her office. Sitting down behind her desk, she asked, "I presume you know what happened?"

Greg tried not to look guilty. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled slightly. "I figured as much. After all, you work at the crime lab. I would've been disappointed if you hadn't found out." Now her expression turned serious. "Mr. Sanders, how do you know Mrs. Hillsburg?"

"I worked on her case a couple of years ago."

Ann nodded, writing something down on a pad of paper. "Would you say that you are close to Nicola?"

"As close as I can possibly be, considering we live nowhere near each other. I write, call when I can. I sent birthday cards, Christmas cards. She came and visited me in the hospital when I was sick. She and her mother came to my wedding a few weeks ago." He paused, then asked earnestly, "Ma'am, what is this about?"

She avoided the question. "Mr. Sanders, to your knowledge, does Nicola regard you as a sort of father-figure?"

Greg looked taken aback. "I have no idea," he said, brow furrowing in confusion as he ran a hand through his hair.

She sighed, then asked, "Mr. Sanders, are you capable of taking care of a young child?"

He frowned, then asked slowly, "Where are you going with this?"

Ann sighed. "In Mrs. Hillsburg's will, she left explicit instructions that Nicola should go to you if she died."

Greg's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh my God."

"Mrs. Hillsburg never informed you of her intentions?"

Greg shook his head, still unable to believe it. "No, she never talked about it."

Ann nodded, then reached for an envelope on her desk. "Mrs. Hillsburg also left instructions that you receive this letter."

Taking it with trembling fingers, Greg opened it and slowly read the penned words.

"Greg—

If you're reading this, then something had happened and I am no longer able to care for Nicola. Henceforth, I'm leaving it up to you to do so.

Now, I know you're probably wondering why the hell I would choose you, of all people, to raise my daughter. Well, the truth is, who else could possibly raise her as well as you could? You have no idea what an influence you have been on her. She loves you so much. You're a hero to her, and I know that she would never be happy with anyone except you.

So please, Greg, please take Nicola. Love her for me.

—Melissa"

Greg felt one tear slowly drip down his cheek and onto the paper. Ann looked at him, then asked, "Will you take her?"

Greg looked up, unsure. "I…I don't know."

"Mr. Sanders, she has nowhere else to go."

Greg took a deep breath, then said in what he hoped was a confident voice, "I'll take her."

Ann looked at him seriously. "Are you sure? A child is a big responsibility, and if you don't think you're up to it—"

"No," said Greg, cutting her off. "I'm taking her. I have to."

Ann nodded, then asked gently, "Mr. Sanders, I don't want you to think of this as something you have to do. It should be something you want to do." Greg shrugged, not looking at her. Sitting back in her chair, she asked, "Mr. Sanders, do you love her?"

He met her eyes. "More than words could ever tell. And I want to take her. I really do. It's just…"

"What?" she asked.

"Well…see…" He paused, then said quietly, "I have AIDS. And less than a year to live. I don't want to give Nicola a home only to have her lose it a couple of months from now."

Ann sighed. "Mr. Sanders, you're married, right? All you and your wife need to do is legally adopt Nicola, and even after your death, she will still be able to stay with your wife."

Greg nodded, but then said quietly, "I don't want to force her into this. She's already lost both of her parents, she doesn't need to lose another."

"Why don't you ask her what she wants?"

Greg looked up at her. "Can I? Can I talk to her and explain it?"

"I don't see why not," said Ann, shrugging. "After all, we have no legal grounds to restrict you from taking her, so preventing you from seeing her would be illegal. I'll just go get her."

Greg nodded wordlessly, then sat back in his seat, waiting for Nicola to arrive. And then there she was, her usual energy hidden behind tearstains on her cheeks. "Oh, Nicola," sighed Greg, reaching out his arms.

She ran into them, hugging him tightly. "Greg!" she wailed, burying her head in his shirt. He held her gently while she cried, stroking her hair. When she finished, she leaned back and sniffled, "Greg, do I get to go home with you?

"Only if you want to, sweetie," said Greg.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" she asked.

He sighed and said gently, "Nicola, remember how I was sick?" She nodded wordlessly. "Well, I'm still sick. Really sick. So sick that in a couple of months, I'm going to die." Nicola's eyes went wide and she buried her head in Greg's shirt again. He sighed sadly. "So, are you sure you still want to come live with me?"

"Yes," she said vehemently, raising her eyes to his. "There's nowhere else I want to be. I want to go live with you and Sara."

"Ok, sweetheart," said Greg soothingly. He stood up and took her hand, looking at Ann. "Is there anything I need to do?"

"Just fill out these custody forms," she said, handing them to her. "You can turn them in later, though. And start petitioning the state right away to adopt her."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, reaching out and shaking her hand once more. To Nicola, he said, "Alright, now let's go home."

"Greg?" asked Nicola timidly. "Can I call you 'Daddy' now?"

Greg scooped her up into a hug. "You can call me 'Daddy' forever."


	35. Fall to Pieces

**_A/N: _**_So we've had about all the happiness I can handle at a time in this fic, so we revert to full-on angst. Just the way I like it. Usual disclaimer, as always. Thanks to everyone for all the reviews I've gotten...Love to you all! And now, on with the show!_

Chapter 35- Fall to Pieces

"You're the only one  
I'll be with til the end  
When I come undone  
You bring me back again  
Back under the stars  
Back into your arms

And I don't wanna fall to pieces  
I just wanna sit and stare at you  
I don't wanna talk about it  
And I don't want a conversation  
I just wanna cry in front of you  
I don't wanna talk about it  
Cuz I'm in love with you"

Fall to Pieces by Avril Lavigne

It was a sweltering June day when Greg's troubles intensified. Over the past few months, between learning to be a father to a seven-year-old, caring for his pregnant wife and still working enough hours to earn enough money for treatments, he had been stretched a little thin. But he was fine, or at least that's what he told himself.

Hence, here it was, a Saturday morning, and he was kneeling outside in weather that was already in the high nineties, taking pictures of a young girl lying dead on her driveway. Even though he was only wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans, he felt as if he was roasting. Of course, he should just be happy for this rare chance to go out into the field, but honestly. "God, Griss, it's hot out," he complained to his boss, who was examining the body nearby.

"Well, Greg, it is summer," returned the older man, pausing to look at the girl's arm. "We've got defensive wounds."

"Maybe she scraped up her assailant," suggested Greg as he snapped a picture of a bloody shoeprint. "And even though it's summer, it should not be this hot."

Grissom looked at the younger man's gaunt face. His forehead was beaded with sweat and he looked pale. "Greg, maybe you should take a break," he suggested, trying not to sound concerned.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm fine—"

Sudden shouts from the police officer nearby cut him off. They both looked up to see a man running from the house, toward them. "Suspect is fleeing on foot," reported the cop into his radio.

Greg leapt to his feet, not even realizing that he didn't have a weapon. Seeing him jump up, the man turned, running away. Greg took off after him, catching up fairly quickly and tackling the man to the ground. He sat on the ground, breathing hard, as the cop cuffed the man.

Grissom jogged up. "What do you think you were doing?" he asked angrily. "The cops are here for a reason, so we don't have to do that!"

"Sorry, Griss," gasped Greg, clutching his chest.

"Greg, are you—" started Griss. Suddenly, Greg fell over in a faint. "Help!" called Grissom, kneeling down next to the young CSI and checking his pulse. "We have an officer down, repeat, officer down! Radio for an ambulance."

Another officer kneeled next to him. "Is he ok?" he asked.

"No," said Grissom. "He fainted. Could just be from the heat, but with his condition…I wanted to be sure."

While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, Grissom flipped open his cell phone and dialed Sara's number. "Hey Sara, it's Griss. Greg collapsed at the scene. No, I think he's ok, but the paramedics are on their way. Do you want me to go to the hospital with him? Ok. Alright, I'll see you later."

He hung up the phone and checked Greg's pulse again. It was still there, but seemed fainter. "Where are those paramedics?" he shouted at the police officer.

"En route," the police officer answered. "And you might want to calm down, sir. There's nothing more you can do for him."

Suddenly, the sound of sirens split the air and red and blue lights flashed through the sky. The ambulance squealed to a stop beside the crime scene and two paramedics jumped out.

"Mr. Grissom, I need you to step aside," called the first paramedic as he knelt by Greg's prone form. Feeling for a pulse, he called to his companion, "We need oxygen over here!"

The second paramedic put an oxygen mask over Greg's mouth. Grissom was relieved to see Greg's breath clouding the clear plastic.

The first paramedic called to another still in the ambulance, "We need the stretcher out here. His BP's 70 over 60. We gotta get him to the hospital, stat!"

A third and fourth paramedic rushed out, almost bowling Grissom over in the process. The third guy went to help the first two, while the fourth pulled Grissom aside. "Mr. Grissom, does he have any medical conditions that you are aware of?"

"He…he has AIDS," said Grissom shakily, watching as the three other paramedics lifted Greg onto the stretcher and wheeled him to the ambulance.

"Are you riding with him to the hospital?" asked the paramedic.

Grissom shook his head as if in a daze. "No…no, his wife will meet him there. She's on her way now."

The paramedic nodded. "Ok, thanks." He turned toward the ambulance, then turned back and told Grissom, "Don't worry. We'll take care of him."

Grissom nodded slowly, watching as the ruby and sapphire lights faded into the distance, siren still wailing. Staring after the ambulance, Grissom flipped his cell open and dialed Catherine's number. "Hey, Cath, it's Griss. I'm gonna need your help down at this crime scene…"

* * *

Sara paced up and down the waiting room, one hand resting on her bulging stomach. She was seven months pregnant now, and learning that her husband had collapsed at a crime scene was not what she needed to hear. It had been almost two months since Grissom had refused to let her out of the lab and into the field, and as boring as the lab was, she had been glad to be nearer to Greg. But today he had gone out to the scene, and then this had happened, and she couldn't help but blame herself for not being there with him. 

At that moment, the doctor came out of ICU. "Sara Sanders?" she asked, looking grave.

Sara nodded wordlessly, hands clenched so tightly that here knuckles were turning white. "How's Greg?" she asked anxiously.

Dr. Martinez sighed. "Greg's stable, for the moment. He's temporarily in the ICU, but we'll be moving him shortly."

Sara looked at her, alarmed by her tone. "Moving him? Why? And to where? And can I go see him?"

Dr. Martinez sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mrs. Sanders, perhaps we should go to my office."

Sara shook her head slowly. "No, I don't want to go to your office, I want to go see my husband!"

"Mrs. Sanders, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that," said the doctor softly.

Sara froze, fear flickering on her features. "Why?" she whispered. "What's wrong with him?"

"Mrs. Sanders, I really think we should go to my office to…"

"No," said Sara, quietly yet firmly. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on with Greg."

The doctor sighed, then said gently, "Greg's t-cell count is down to 14. We have to move him to a sterile environment to try and get his t-cell count back up."

Sara sank into a chair, staring blankly at Dr. Martinez. "But…he'll be ok, right? You'll get his t-cell count back up, right?"

The doctor sighed again. "Mrs. Sanders, at this point, your husband could die from someone sneezing on him. If he doesn't improve, and fast, he will die."

Sara closed her eyes, tears beginning to ooze from the corners of her eyes. She nodded slowly in understanding and stood.

"Where are you going?" asked Dr. Martinez.

"To see my husband," said Sara quietly.

Dr. Martinez frowned. "Mrs. Sanders, I don't think you understand the direness of your husband's situation. Contact with someone who hasn't been sanitized could send him over the edge."

"I'm going to go say good-bye to him," said Sara softly, "and not even you will deny me that."

* * *

Sara sat next to Greg, gently holding his hand in hers. He looked so small, lying there in a hospital bed with a tube protruding form every orifice. Silent tears traced soft streams down her face, dripping off her chin and on to his still form. 

A nurse knocked on the door. "Mrs. Sanders? We're going to need to take him now."

Sara nodded wordlessly, standing and allowing a few attendants to come ready Greg to be transported. She squeezed Greg's hand. "I love you," she whispered, tears falling more freely now. "And this is not good-bye."

Yet as she stood back and watched as Greg was wheeled from the room, she felt a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that told her she was never going to be able to speak to him again.


	36. Let Go

**_A/N: _**_This chappie has a bit more swearing than usual, just to warn you. See note at the bottom for a more in-depth note from moi. Usual disclaimer, and here we go...  
_

Chapter 36- Let Go

"So, let go  
Jump in  
Oh well, what you waiting for?  
It's all right  
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown  
So, let go  
Just get in  
Oh, it's so amazing here  
It's all right  
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown"

Let Go by Frou Frou

Greg woke to the sound of mechanic beeping and whirring. Slowly, he tried to sit up, but only managed to cause himself to go into a coughing fit. His whole body shook as he coughed, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that the oxygen mask still on his face was flecked with blood.

Slightly panicked, he reached for the call button, only succeeding in bringing on another fit. After this one ended, he lay back against his pillow, exhausted.

Suddenly, the door to his room slid open and Dr. Martinez came in, looking like something out of the Anthrax scare. She wore a haz-mat suit, complete with hood covering her face. "Greg?" she asked, voice muffled by the suit.

"Dr. Martinez, what's going on?" asked Greg, fear lacing the edge of his voice. "Where am I? What happened?"

"Greg, you collapsed at a crime scene," said Dr. Martinez cautiously. "Do you remember that?" Greg nodded slowly. "Well, you were taken here, and we ran some tests, and we found that your t-cell count has dropped to fourteen."

Greg swallowed, hard. "Is that bad?" he asked, trying not to sound as scared as he was.

She sighed sadly. "Greg, I'm not going to lie to you. At this point, any foreign bacteria could infect you with something as small as a cold, and your immune system wouldn't be able to handle it."

Greg blanched. "What're…what're my chances? I mean, I'll get better, right? I can't…I can't die. Not yet. I'm not ready yet."

Dr. Martinez sighed again. "Greg, I don't know for sure, but at this point, your immune system is shutting down. Also, additional tests came back positive for _M. Avium Intracellulare_, which is a kind of cousin to T.B."

He smiled wryly. "That would explain the blood I'm coughing up," he whispered hoarsely.

Now it was Dr. Martinez's turn to look alarmed. "You're coughing up blood?" she asked.

Greg blinked at her. "Did you not notice the red all over the oxygen mask?"

Somehow, his sarcasm failed to amuse her. "Greg, your lungs are failing. You're beginning to cough up the lining of your lungs."

The seriousness of the situation began to sink in. "How much time do I have?" he asked quietly, fingers playing with a fold in the blanket.

"At this rate, I'd say a few days at most," replied the doctor, just as quietly.

Greg closed his eyes and nodded slowly in understanding. "Where's Sara?" he asked. "I need to talk to her."

"Greg…" started Dr. Martinez, her calm composure slipping for a second. "Sara can't come in here, not even in a haz-mat suit. Her doctors have forbidden it, because of the baby."

"But I need to see her," insisted Greg, panic beginning to creep into his voice. "I have to see her. I have to say good-bye!"

"Greg you need to calm down," said Dr. Martinez watchfully, eyeing the monitor beside his bed as his blood pressure spiked.

"Calm down?" shouted Greg, voice rising as he went on. "Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down? You tell me I have only a couple of day left but you won't let me see my wife to tell her good-bye and that I love her?"

Dr. Martinez sighed, pulling out a syringe and giving him an injection. Greg lay back against the pillow as the sedative kicked in, completely drained. "Sara…" he whispered as his eyes closed.

* * *

Sara was angry. Sara was beyond angry; she was furious. Nick knew this as soon as he saw her in the hospital waiting room. Hands clenched at her sides, face and voice deadly calm and eyes burning with an intensity that would make a grown man quake in fear, she looked ready to take the head off of the hospital orderly who was currently trying to talk to her. 

"What do you mean, I can't see him?" she asked quietly, but with poison oozing over her words. "I really don't see how you can stop me."

"Mrs. Sanders, your doctor has given us explicit orders that you are not to, under any circumstance, enter that room."

"Fuck my doctor!" said Sara angrily, face beginning to flush. "What the fuck does my doctor know? I need to be in there, goddamnit!"

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Nick mildly as he came up to them. He turned to Sara. "Sara, what's wrong?"

"They won't let me in, Nick," she said, starting to cry. "He's dying, goddamnit, they tell me he has only a few days left, and they won't let me in!"

Nick turned to the orderly, confusion wrinkling his brow. "Surely that can't be right," he said. "Why wouldn't she be able to go in?"

"I have specific orders from her doctor that she can't go in there because of the baby," said the orderly with a sigh. "I'm very sorry, hospital policy states that we cannot put a patient's health at risk due to liability."

"Alright, thank you," said Nick. The orderly nodded and left. Nick turned back to Sara. "Sara, what happened? Grissom called and told me that Greg collapsed at a crime scene, but he's dying? How can that be?"

"His t-cell count is down to fourteen," whispered Sara, tears flowing down her face. "His entire body is shutting down, and because of what some stupid doctor says, I can't be in there. He needs me, and I can't even be outside his room." She sobbed brokenly onto Nick's chest as he hugged her.

"Sara, there has to be more," said Nick gently. "Even a t-cell count as low as fourteen wouldn't kill him. Not this quickly."

"Um, he has some kind of infection," said Sara, wiping her eyes. "A cousin of tuberculosis." She paused and looked at Nick, fear, anguish and pain glinting in her eyes. "He's coughing up blood, Nick. They told me he's coughing up blood."

"Jesus Christ," whispered Nick, dark eyes widening in fear. "Isn't there something they can do? Isn't there anything they can do?"

"I don't know," said Sara, beginning to cry again. "I don't know. They're giving him medicine for the infection, but he may not live long enough for it to work." She looked up at Nick. "He can't die, not yet. I want him to see his baby. I want him to hold our child in his arms and tell our child how much he loves him. I want…Oh God, I'm not ready. I'm not ready and I can't even go in there to say good-bye."

"Jesus," muttered Nick again, but he wasn't sure if it was a prayer or a swear. He held Sara gently as she cried, his own tears beginning to slip down his face.

Suddenly, Sara leaned back. "You go," she told him.

"What?" said Nick, confused.

"Go to him," said Sara, eyes shining with tears. "You can go; they'll let you go. Go to him and make him realize that he can't die. Tell him I love him and he can't leave me." Seeing Nick hesitate, she whispered, "Please. Tell him, because I can't."

"Ok," said Nick. "I'll go. I'm not promising anything. I don't even know if he's awake, but I will tell him how much you love him." He turned to leave, then turned back to Sara. "In the meantime, call Griss and tell him what's going on. He'll want to know."

Nick took a deep breath and went to find the orderly.

* * *

Fifteen minutes alter, Nick was suited up in his own haz-may suit, ready to enter Greg's room. Dr, Martinez came up to hm. "Mr. Stokes?" she asked. "I just wanted to tell you a few things before you go in. I had to give Greg a fairly strong sedative a little while ago. He should be awake by now, but I can't guarantee he'll be coherent. Either way, he's very weak, and I must caution you to please not upset him." 

Nick nodded slowly before carefully entering the room. Greg lay in his bed, oxygen mask over his mouth and eyes closed, his ragged breathing sounding impossibly harsh to Nick's ears. The incessant beep of the heart monitor was little comfort as Nick watched Greg's chest struggle to rise and fall. Walking over to the bed, Nick took Greg's hand in his covered ones. "Hey, Greggo," he said.

Greg blinked once, twice, then croaked, "Nick? What're you doing—" but then he erupted into a fit of coughing.

"Shh, don't try to talk," said Nick gently. "You need to save your strength so you can get better."

Greg shook his head slowly, face completely calm. "Nicky, I'm not going to get better."

"Yes you are, Greg," said Nick firmly.

"No, Nick, I'm not," whispered Greg. "I'm so tired…so tired of fighting. I can't even see Sara…can't even tell her I love her one last time."

"You're going to get better. You just need to rest, build your immune system back up," said Nick, still not believing that Greg could die.

"Nick, listen to me," wheezed Greg, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. "I'm dying. And I have no ability left to fight this. Just…just promise me one thing, ok?"

Nick gripped Greg's hand tighter. "Anything, buddy," he whispered, oblivious to the tears beginning to drip down his face.

"Tell Sara…tell her I love her. And tell her I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough to stay with her. Tell her I will always be with her. Tell her…tell her good-bye."

"Just hold on, Greggo," urged Nick, barely able to speak through his tears. "Hold on and you can tell her yourself."

Greg turned his head toward Nick and looked at him sadly. "I don't think that's an option now," he whispered, energy running out. "Good-bye, Nick."

Nick held Greg's hand as Greg fell asleep, tears clogging his vision and fogging the plastic of his haz-mat suit hood. "Hold on, Greggo," he whispered again. "You have to hold on."

* * *

_**A/N:** _M. Avium Intracellulare _is a real disease. I didn't make it up. The "M." stands for microbacterium. _

_So I'm going on vacation until Saturday the 17th, and I don't think I'll be able to get to a computer during that time, so, unfortuantely, and partially because I'm evil, you'll be stuck with this for almost an entire week. Good news, though: you can spend that time thinking of what could happen! Anywho..._


	37. Show Me the Way

**_A/N:_**_ So, I'm back...and hence I posted another chappie. And so here we are! Usual disclaimer. Rock on._

Chapter 37- Show Me the Way

"Show me the way  
Show me the way  
Take me tonight  
To the river  
And wash my illusions away  
And show me the way  
Show me the way  
Give me the strength  
And the courage  
To believe that I'll get there someday  
And please show me the way"

Show Me the Way by Styx

Nick left Greg's room and was immediately escorted away to dispose of his suit. When he had been properly sterilized, he went to find Sara. He had no idea what to say to her, or how to tell her that Greg had prepared himself to die.

He found her where he had left her, in the waiting room. She looked at him, and all he could do was shake his head. "I'm sorry, Sara," he whispered. "I tried to make him realize that he couldn't give up, but he said he's tired of fighting." He paused, then whispered, "He said to tell you he loves you, and that he's sorry, and good-bye."

"No," whispered Sara, tears filling her eyes. "No, it can't be. He…he can't die." She turned her tear-stained face up to Nick. "He can't, Nicky," she whispered. "I still need him."

"I know," said Nick, just as quietly, reaching out and pulling her to him. "I still need him, too."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Sanders?" asked a nurse, coming up to her with a clipboard. "We've had a request from Mr. Sanders that he be officially listed as DNR."

"DNR?" repeated Sara, emotion causing her voice to break slightly on the words.

"Yes, ma'am. Do Not Resuscitate, meaning that if he stops breathing or his heart stops beating, we're not to bring him back." The nurse paused, then said gently, "As his wife, you can overrule him by saying he is mentally unstable and unable to make the decision…"

"No," said Sara firmly. "He wouldn't want to be a vegetable. He wouldn't want that. You're to respect his wishes. I will not overrule him."

"Sara, think of what you're saying," urged Nick, brow furrowed. "You're telling them to not try and save his life if it comes down to it! You're giving him permission to die!"

"If you love someone as much as I love Greg," said Sara calmly, though tears still glittered in her eyes, "you have to know when to let them go."

"No," whispered Nick, stepping away from her. "No, Sara, you have to fight. You have to fight for him even if he won't fight for himself."

"I've done all I can," said Sara softly. "It's up to him now. He is the only one who controls his fate. Don't you understand?" she asked Nick. "Even if I said 'no', he'd find another way, if it's really what he wants. He trusts me, and I won't overrule that trust."

Nick shook his head violently, turning away from Sara. "I don't understand how you can stand there and justify allowing him to die. If you really loved him, you'd try and keep him here."

"No," said Sara quietly, though she looked as if she had just been slapped in the face by Nick's words, "if I really loved him, I'd realize it may be time to let him go." She began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" called Nick after her.

"I'm going to see if Grissom is here yet," said Sara emotionlessly. "He'll want to say good-bye to Greg." She strode out of the waiting room, leaving Nick behind.

* * *

Grissom walked slowly into Greg's room, dressed up in his haz-mat suit. Greg didn't even bother looking over at him as he approached the bed. Greg's breathing was worse, his breath coming out in short painful gasps that hurt Grissom to hear almost as much as they hurt Greg to take. 

Grissom gave Greg's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Hey, Greg, how are you doing?" he asked him quietly, looking concernedly at the young man.

"Griss…I'm sorry," managed Greg before he burst out coughing. Screwing his eyes up, his entire body shook with wracking coughs. When they had subsided, he said, "I guess this is good-bye."

"No Greg," said Grissom firmly. "Don't you dare go saying your good-byes yet. All you need is to hold on for the medicine to work, and then you'll get better."

Greg closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "No, Griss, it's not going to happen. I mean, look at me…"

"No, Greg, look at me." Greg turned his head toward Grissom, dark chocolate eyes unreadable. "You have to hold on. Hold on for Sara. Hold on for your child."

"Gil, I can't," whispered Greg brokenly. "It's too hard, just too hard. I'm so cold, and everything's so dark…" Greg closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillow.

"Goddamnit, no, Greg!" exclaimed Grissom. He ripped his hood and gloves off and grabbed Greg's hand. "You can't die, Greg. This is not your time to die! Not now, not yet."

Greg squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, one tear leaking from the corner of his eye. "I don't wanna die, Griss," he whispered. "I don't wanna die."

"Then you have to hold on, Greg,' said Grissom, kneeling next to his bed. "Hold on for Catherine, and Warrick and Nicky. Hold on for me. Hold on for Sara, for Nicola, for your unborn child. Hold on for everyone who loves you."

Greg nodded, slowly. "I'll try," he whispered. "I'll try."

Suddenly, a nurse rushed in. "Mr. Grissom, you're going to have to leave! You've been exposed to an extremely harmful microbacterium."

Grissom stood slowly, still looking at Greg. "You'd better try, Greg," he told him, as he allowed himself to be ushered out. "Remember what you told Sara in that song you gave her? 'I'm not willing to lay down and die because I am an Innocent Man.' Fight, Greg."

"I will," whispered Greg, brown eyes full of renewed hope. "And tell Sara that I will. Tell her I'm fighting for her."

The nurse frog-marched Grissom from the room and straight into a decontamination shower. Once there, a male attendant stripped Grissom and showered him down, unmercifully scrubbing at him. Then another nurse gave him an injection, presumably to get rid of the infection, if he had happened to contract it. Yet another nurse made him sign a bunch of papers stating that he had taken his gloves and hood off of his own free will, and the hospital was not at fault in any way, shape or form if he happened to become infected with the microbacterium.

Grissom sighed as he signed the papers. His arm still smarted from the injection, but it was worth it, as long as Greg pulled through this.

* * *

Later that day, Dr. Martinez came in to update Greg. He was sitting up in his bed, and, though he still looked drained, he looked a lot better than he had before. "Well, Greg, I've got some good news," announced Dr. Martinez, crossing over to his bed, no longer wearing the dreaded hazardous-materials suit. "According to your most recent blood test, your t-cell count is up to fifty. That means that you no longer have to be in a sterilized environment." 

"Thank God," said Greg, smiling slightly. "I was beginning to get lonely in here all by myself."

"Well, there's more."

Instantly, Greg was all ears. "What's going on?" he asked seriously, leaning forward slightly.

"Your immune system is responding to the antibiotics. You are no longer contagious, and the infection is clearing up as we speak."

"Excellent," said Greg enthusiastically, smiling widely. His cocked his head slightly at Dr. Martinez. "So that means that Sara…"

"Can now come visit you?" interrupted a voice from the doorway. There was Sara, beaming at him, one hand resting on her large belly.

"Sara," whispered Greg, tears glinting in his eyes. He reached one hand out to her, and she willingly stepped forward to take it.

Dr. Martinez smiled as well, though she added in undertones to Sara, "He's still very weak. Try not to stress him out."

Sara nodded to her as Dr. Martinez took her leave. Turning back to Greg, Sara smiled at him through the tears in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. "Thank God, Greg," she whispered. "I was so afraid you were going to die."

"What, and leave you here to name our child all by yourself?" asked Greg, mock-surprised. "I think not." He smiled at her. "Besides, I wasn't ready to go. There was too much I hadn't said," admitted Greg softly.

Sara squeezed his hand gently. "Same for me," she whispered. "If you had died, I would've killed you."

"Yet another reason why I couldn't die," he said, smiling. "God knows your wrath frightens me more than anything else. I'd rather stand up to a firing squad than your rage," he added conspiratorially.

Sara punched him playfully in the arm. "Damn right you should be afraid of my fury," she growled jokingly.

Greg winced. "Don't let Nick and Warrick hear you say that," he pleaded. "They'll never let me live down how whipped I am."

"What, Greg's whipped?" asked Warrick loudly from the doorway as he, Nick and Catherine strode into the room, all three grinning at Greg.

"Damn," swore Greg under his breath, giving Sara a look. "You see what happens when you speak?"

Sara gasped and punched him in the arm again. "Don't you dare blame this on me!" she exclaimed. "I'm not the one who's whipped!"

"She's got a point there, Greggo," remarked Nick, sitting on Greg's bed.

Greg glared at Nick. "Just whose side are you supposed to be on?" he demanded, still giving Nick the death-glare.

"Yours, Greg," said Nick calmly, the death-glare having no effect on him. "I'm always on your side."

"Could've fooled me," muttered Greg, switching his glare to Warrick. "And don't you even dare to say anything."

Warrick held up his hands defensively. "Dude, I didn't say anything!" he exclaimed. "Don't blame me for Nick thinking you're whipped." Under his breath, he added to Catherine, "Which he is."

"Hey!" exclaimed Greg. 'I heard that!"

"You can't deny the truth, Greg, " said Catherine calmly.

"Not you too," groaned Greg, leaning back against his pillows. "I almost died, and all your people can do is accuse me of being whipped? How is this even remotely fair?"

A sudden silence descended on the room after Greg's mentioning of his brush with death. Greg looked up at them seriously. "Hey, I was just joking, you know," he said quietly.

"Yeah," said Nick, slightly choked up. "But your almost dying was no laughing matter." He looked at Greg seriously. "I honestly thought you were going to die. You have no idea how scared I was."

"Probably not as scared as me," whispered Sara. "I thought I was going to lose you, Greg, and I wasn't ready."

Greg gripped her hand tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything you guys went through."

"It's not your fault, Greg," said Grissom from the doorway. He walked slowly into the room. "If anything, it's my fault for taking you out into the field."

"No, Griss," said Greg slowly. "It's most definitely not your fault. I love working in the field. You know that. I would've been pissed if you hadn't let me out into the field."

"Yeah, I know," said Grissom quietly. He joined Sara and Nick at Greg's bed. "I'm glad you decided to fight."

"I wouldn't have, you know," said Greg conversationally. "Not if you hadn't convinced me to. I was so ready to just give up." He looked up at Grissom. "Thanks, Griss. You convinced me to hang around and annoy you all for a little while longer."

"Hey, what can I say?" said Grissom lightly. "That's what I'm here for."

Greg looked up at Sara. "Are you ok?" he asked her quietly. "Is the baby ok?"

"We're fine," said Sara, just as softly. She gave him a half-smile. "Though I can't guarantee how we'd be if you had died."

"God knows how any of us would be if you had died, Greggo," said Nick gently. He snorted. "After all, there'd be no one here to make your kick-ass coffee. How do you make that coffee, anyway?"

Greg grinned widely. "That's a secret I'll share with only one person, Nick," he said. "And that happens to be my beautiful wife, who can keep a secret even better than I can."

At that moment, a nurse bustled in. "I'm sorry to disturb you all, but Mr. Sanders needs his rest, so I have to ask you to leave."

Everyone nodded. Catherine looked at Greg and said gently, "Keep getting better, Greggo."

"Yeah, man," affirmed Warrick. "We still need you around."

"Most definitely," said Nick, giving Greg's hand a squeeze. "If you had died, I don't know what we would've done," he said quietly.

The three left, leaving Grissom and Sara behind. Grissom squeezed Greg's hand gently, just as Nick had done. "I wasn't ready to let you go, Greggo," he told the younger man before leaving himself.

Sara was now alone with Greg, She leaned in and gently kissed him on the lips. "I would've missed doing that," she told him, smiling at him, even as tears welled in her eyes.

"Well, we'll just have to get all that done and over with, won't we?" asked Greg with a half-smile before kissing her back.

"I'm glad you decided to fight," she told him, wrapping her arms around him protectively.

He smiled up at her. "I wouldn't have had it any other way, babe," he said, kissing her once more before leaning back against his pillow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see you in my dreams," he informed her, a small smile stretching his mouth.

"I'll meet you there," she told him, laying down on his bed next to him and snuggling against him. There, the two of them fell asleep, curled in each other's arms.


	38. Isn't She Lovely

**_A/N:_**_ Happy Chapter! This one's actually one of the last happy chapters. Usual Disclaimer. _Law and Order_ belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC, and the Fall Out Boy song is "Nobody Puts a Baby in the Corner." Enjoy!_

Chapter 38- Isn't She Lovely

"Isn't she lovely  
Isn't she wonderful  
Isn't she precious  
Less than one minute old  
I never thought through love we'd  
Be making one as lovely as she  
But isn't she lovely  
Made from love"

Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder

It wasn't until early August that the hospital allowed Greg to go home. They had kept him mainly for observation, to help stabilize his t-cell count. As it was, on the day he was discharged, his t-cell count had climbed to almost 100, the highest it had been in a long time, considering what he'd been through. Greg was beyond relieved to be leaving; if he had to stay one more day, he probably would've pulled his hair out from boredom, because let's face it. As thrilling as having free cable may be, watching re-runs of _Law and Order_ on TNT can only entertain a man for so long.

He planned to head not home first, despite strict doctor's orders to do so, but rather to work, to see everyone and say hi. Even though he had seen them all in the hospital, it had been like seeing an animal out of its natural habitat. Only Sara and Nicola had been the same.

Before he left, however, he stopped at the front desk to talk about paying his bill. He needed to know how much of it insurance was going to cover, because he had to pay the rest, and he had a feeling that the insurance company wasn't going to cover a whole lot.

He pulled himself out of his wheelchair and smiled warmly at the receptionist. "Hi, ma'am, my name's Greg Sanders, and I was wondering about the status of my bill."

"You're being discharged today?" asked the receptionist in a bored, nasal voice that Greg swore receptionists had to learn at reception school.

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking pointedly at his wheelchair and the attendant standing behind. "Um, yes, ma'am, I am."

"Hold on, I'll look it up," she sighed, sounding as if Greg had just asked her to perform an impossibly arduous task.

Greg leaned against the counter while he waited, enjoying the feeling of semi-normality. While he had been allowed over the past few weeks to leave his room and wear normal clothes, he had been mostly confined to bed rest. Now, he could stand here, and, despite the wheelchair and nurse, look and feel like a normal guy checking on something in the hospital.

The receptionist finally finished her rapid typing on the computer, and turned back to Greg, frowning slightly. "Mr. Sanders?" she asked.

"Yeah, what's up?" asked Greg, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Your bill has been paid in full by a Gilbert Grissom. He's also left instructions that we send any further bills directly to him." She smiled slightly at Greg. "That's some friend you've got there, Mr. Sanders."

"Yeah…yeah, he is," said Greg dazedly, hardly believing it. He thanked the receptionist before settling back in the wheelchair and allowing himself to be wheeled out to the curb. Nick was waiting for him, since Sara was no longer able to drive, due to the baby.

Nick gave Greg a grin. "Bet you're glad to be out of there, huh?" he asked, helping the attendant situate Greg in the front seat.

Greg smiled slightly. "You have no idea."

Once Greg was set, Nick got in the car himself. Turning it on, he smiled as Greg winced at the blasting country music. "Sorry, Greggo," called Nick over the acoustic guitars and twanging singers, "I forgot that you don't like country music."

Greg gave him a look. "I don't just not like country music," he growled through clenched teeth, "I despise country music." Still glaring at Nick, he turned the knob until it reached a better station. Smiling happily, Greg began air-drumming to the song that was playing, a Fall Out Boy song. "I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake," sang Greg, head bobbing in time to the music.

Nick hid a smile as he turned out of the Desert Palms parking lot. "Alright Greg, where to? You want to head home, or…?"

"No, go to the lab first," said Greg, forehead creasing slightly in thought.

Nick frowned at him. "Something wrong?"

Greg shook his head slowly. "Nothing's wrong, man," he said, still frowning. "I just need to talk to Grissom."

"Ah, I see," said Nick. He hesitated, then asked, "By chance, you didn't happen to try and pay your bill, did you?"

Greg looked at Nick in surprise. "Yeah, I did, how did you know? That's what I need to talk to Grissom about,"

Nick nodded understandingly. "Yeah, about that…we all pitched in to help you and Sara pay for your bills. And before you even start," he said, holding up a hand to stop Greg from speaking. "It's not charity. It's just us being nice because God knows none of us want you to end up broke."

Greg held up a hand of his own to cut off Nick's tirade. "I wasn't going to yell at you. I was going to thank you."

"Oh," said Nick, blushing slightly. He gave Greg a small grin. "It's no problem, man. We're glad to help, even if your stubborn ass refuses to ask."

"Wait, my ass can ask for help?" asked Greg, raising an eyebrow at Nick and trying to suppress a grin.

Nick punched him lightly on the arm. "You knew what I meant," he growled, giving Greg a dirty look.

Suddenly, Greg's cell phone rang. Brow furrowed in confusion, he pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hey, Griss, what's up? Yeah, I'm on my way to the lab…go back to the hospital? Why?" He listened to Grissom's answer and paled visibly. "Now?" he whispered, eyes wide. "Holy shit. Alright, be right there." He hung up the phone and turned to Nick, eyes still huge. "Nick, we gotta get back to the hospital, now."

"Why?" asked Nick, confusion showing on his face. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Sara's having the baby."

* * *

Greg leapt out of the car the moment it pulled up to the curb. Sprinting into the hospital, he almost bowled over a nurse. 

"Whoa, Mr. Sanders, slow down there!" said the nurse with a smile. She held out a hand to steady him. "I thought you were being released today."

"Oh, I was," he said grimly, recognizing the nurse as one of many who had taken care of him. "My wife's here now. She's having the baby."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed the nurse. "I knew she was due soon, but today?" She gave Greg a smile. "Some timing, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, it's impeccable," grumbled Greg. "Can you tell me how to get to the maternity ward?"

"Sure thing. Fourth floor, to the right of the elevator." Greg nodded his thanks and started to leave. The nurse called after him, "Mr. Sanders, you'll want to take the stairs. The elevators take forever."

"Thanks!" called Greg over his shoulder as he strode to the nearest staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time, he climbed up four flights of steps in record time, bursting through the door at the top and racing to the nurse's station. Panting for breath, he exclaimed, "My wife's…having baby…now! Sara…Sanders…where?"

The nurse gave him a bemused glance as she typed Sara's name into the computer. "She's in delivery room 2," she informed him. "You'll need to scrub up if you're planning on being in there with her."

"Where can I do that at?" asked Greg urgently. The nurse pointed to a room across the hall and Greg headed in to change.

A minute later he came out wearing a scrubs shirt and pants and a hairnet that looked absolutely ridiculous over his spiked hair. He went down to Sara's room and went in.

"Greg!" wailed Sara the moment she saw him. She reached out for him, tears and sweat glistening on her face.

"Thank God," muttered Grissom in undertones as he stood, shaking his hand out with a pained look on his face. "I'm fairly certain she broke some of my fingers."

"You'd break some fingers too if you had a baby coming out of your vagina!" screamed Sara before crying out again in pain.

Greg quickly took Grissom's vacated seat next to her and squeezed her hand gently. "Sara, sweetheart, how are you doing?"

Sara's eyes softened slightly as she squeezed Greg's hand back, but then they glazed over in pain with a fresh contraction.

Greg turned his head and asked a nurse, "Has she been given any pain relievers?"

"No, Mr. Sanders," said the nurse as she bustled about, preparing for the baby. "We haven't had time yet to give her an epidermal."

"Well," winced Greg as Sara squeezed his hand with a vice grip, "you might want to get on that."

Sara's OB/GYN entered, putting his gloves on. "Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, how are we doing today, other than the obvious?"

"Oh, we're just fine," said Greg sarcastically, "save for the fact that my hand feels like it's about to fall off and my wife is trying to squeeze a living person out without the aid of an epidermal."

Dr. Wahlberg grinned as he sat on his stool and wheeled over to Sara. "At least your sense of humor is still intact, and that's half the battle." He paused as he examined Sara. "She's fully dilated," he called to the nurse. To Sara, he said, "Alright, Sara, I'm going to need you to push when I tell you to, ok?"

She nodded quickly, not speaking, just gripping Greg's hand tighter. "Ok, Sara, push!" Her face scrunched as she pushed as hard as she could.

"Excellent, excellent," said Dr. Wahlberg. He told the nurse, "The baby's crowning." Turning back to Sara, he said, "Ok, and…push!"

She pushed again, even harder. "Oh, God, is that blood?" asked Greg, paling visibly and looking faint.

Sara whipped her head around to glare at him. "You are not the one giving birth here," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Now is not the time for you to be squeamish."

Greg opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by the doctor's cry of, "One more big push!"

It all happened so fast. One second, Sara was murdering his hand and swearing under her breath, and the next, wails from a tiny baby filled the room along with Sara's cries of relief. Greg sat in shock as the doctor announced, "Congratulations, you are now the parents of a healthy baby girl."

Greg looked at Sara, then at the nurse. Sara nodded in silent approval, and Greg reached up to take his daughter from the nurse. He held her close to him and looked down at her. She was so tiny, all red and wrinkly and bald. She stopped her wailing to ogle at her father with big eyes. "Hi, sweetheart," whispered Greg, smiling at her as tears began to run down his cheeks. "I'm your daddy, and I love you very, very much."

She seemed to smile at him for just a second before closing her eyes and going to sleep. Greg looked at Sara, happiness and wonder written all over his face. "Look at her, Sara," he whispered, brown eyes glowing in amazement. "Just look at her. She's perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"Yeah, she is, Greggo," said Sara softly, reaching out to take her. Sara cradled her for a second, then said, "She looks like you."

"Oh, thanks, so I look all scrunchy and red?" teased Greg, pretending to be hurt.

"You know what I meant," said Sara, too tired to argue with him. She touched their daughter's cheek. "We have to name her, you know." She gave Greg a look. "And since she is a girl, Greg Jr. is not an option."

"It could be," pouted Greg. "Lots of girls have guy's names now." Sara just kept glaring at him. "Alright, alright," he mumbled. He looked over at their daughter and smiled gently. "How about Freya?" he suggested.

"Freya?" repeated Sara. "Is that a Norwegian name?"

"Yeah," said Greg thoughtfully. "Freya was the most beautiful of the Norwegian goddesses." He looked at his daughter once more and grinned. "Freya Kjære Sanders."

"Kjære?" asked Sara, fumbling over the foreign word.

"It means 'love' in Norwegian," replied Greg, taking Freya from Sara and holding her close. "Freya," he said, kissing her gently on the forehead. He cocked one eyebrow at Sara and whispered conspiratorially to Freya, "I should warn you, when your mom doesn't have enough coffee or doesn't get enough sleep, she gets crabby."

"Hey!" exclaimed Sara, smacking Greg on the arm. "You've got plenty of time to share all my dirty secrets with our daughter!"

A painful silence fell as both Sara and Greg realized he didn't have plenty of time left. Sara's eyes filled with tears and she reached out for him. "Greg, I'm sorry…"

"It's ok," said Greg quietly. They sat in silence for a moment as Greg rocked Freya gently. After a moment, he said quietly, "Our daughter."

"Hm?" asked Sara.

"You said our daughter…I like that."

Sara smiled before silently reaching out and taking his hand. At that moment, the nurse came back in the room. "Alright, Mr. Sanders, we're going to have to take her now. Have you decided on a name?"

"Yeah," said Greg, looking at Sara for confirmation. "We've decided to name her Freya. Freya Kjære Sanders."

"That's a pretty name," commented the nurse. "You're going to have to spell it for me, though, because otherwise I'll mutilate it."

Greg smiled and obligingly spelt it out for her before kissing Freya gently on the forehead and handing her over.

"Oh, and Mr. Sanders," continued the nurse as she carried the baby out, "there's a large group here that is about ready to get a search warrant to find out about the baby."

Greg grinned even wider before turning back to Sara. "Is it alright if I go tell them?" he asked.

"Go," said Sara with a yawn as she settled back against her pillows. "I'm exhausted anyway."

Greg smiled warmly and kissed her on the forehead before heading out. He had barely set one foot in the waiting room before he was practically tackled by Nicola.

"Daddy!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kneeled down to hug her. "Did Sara have the baby? Do I have a little brother or sister? What's its name? I hope it's a girl so I can have a little sister to play with and dress up and have tea parties with and…"

"Whoa, whoa!" laughed Greg, straightening while still holding her. "Why don't you let me speak for five minutes and tell you, huh?"

Nicola giggled and nuzzled his neck with her nose. Greg carried her with him to where practically the entire night shift was assembled. "Hi everyone," he said cheerfully, setting Nicola on the ground. "How are we all tonight?"

"Stop stalling, Sanders," growled Brass, "Or else I'm going to arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"Obstruction of justice?" questioned Greg. "I'm pretty sure I'm not obstructing any justice."

"No," said Brass calmly, "but you are pissing me off."

"Sheesh!" said Greg, raising an eyebrow at Brass. "Someone's testy. And it's not me, surprisingly, who just got out of the hospital and had to turn around and come back. I mean, if anybody's got a right to be testy…"

"Greg!" shouted Grissom, Nick, Warrick, Catherine and Brass simultaneously.

Doc Robbins raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, Greg, unless you want to end up on one of my tables, I'd tell them what they want to hear."

"Fine, fine," pouted Greg, the he gave them a big grin. "It's a girl!"

"Oo!" squealed Catherine coming forward and hugging him tightly. "Congratulations! What's her name?"

"Freya. Freya Kjære Sanders," said Greg proudly.

Nick came up and gave him a bone-crushing hug. "Congrats, man. Now you're a daddy."

"Yeah, man," agreed Warrick, giving Greg a high-five and a one-armed man-hug. "Congrats. I know you must be proud."

Nobody except Greg noticed as Nicola slipped away from the celebration. Frowning slightly, he accepted everyone's congratulations and excused himself, following her down the hall. "Nicola?" he called, worry in his voice.

She turned and looked up at him, tears streaming down her face and lip quivering. "Why aren't you with your real daughter?" she asked, and Greg was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.

"Nicola, what's this about, honey?" he asked concernedly, kneeling next to her and taking one of her hands in his.

"You heard all them, what Uncle Nick and Uncle Warrick said about you being a daddy now. But you were a daddy before. You're my daddy."

Greg sighed and pulled Nicola close to him. "Yeah, I am. And that will never change. Everyone's just really excited by the baby." He looked at her seriously. "I will always be your daddy. Don't you remember those papers we signed last month that made it official?"

"But what if…what if you love her more?" whispered Nicola sadly. "What if she's better than me?"

"Sweetheart, no one, no one could ever replace you in my heart. No amount of babies could replace you. You're my angel, remember?" He gave her a crooked smile. "You'll always be my angel."

She smiled at him. "That's good, Daddy. And when you go up to Heaven, you'll be my angel, right?"

"Right," whispered Greg, getting choked up. Still smiling at her through the tears in his eyes, he straightened. "What do you say we go visit your little sister?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"Ok," said Nicola as she grabbed his hand and skipped down the hallway with her father in tow.


	39. I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

**_A/N:_**_ So, this chapter hinges on the fact that in episode 507, Ecklie was made Assistant Director of the lab. Therefore, I pressumed there was a director above him. Now, Ecklie's status may have changed or I could just be retarded, but that's neither here nor there. Usual disclaimer applies as always. I don't own the term "emo", nor do I own Nick's half-right explanation of it. Now, ONWARD!  
_

Chapter 39- I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing

"I don't wanna close my eyes  
I don't wanna fall asleep  
Cuz I'd miss you, babe,  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
Cuz even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream would never do  
I'd still miss you, babe  
And I don't want to miss a thing

And I don't want to miss one smile  
And I don't want to miss one kiss  
I just wanna be with you, right here with you  
Just like this  
And I just wanna hold you close  
Feel your heart so close to mine  
And just stay here in this moment  
For all the rest of time"

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

Greg stared at the clock as the red second hand slid around the white face. He sighed as the minute hand ticked once more, leading it closer to the twelve, but still not close enough. He sighed again and turned back to the small pile of evidence on one corner of his desk. With over a half-hour left before he got to go home to his girls, he had time enough to run one more sample at least. He uttered a deep sigh and reached for an evidence bag containing a cup that needed to have the saliva on it run. With yet another sigh, he swabbed it and set to work running it through CODIS and coming up with a DNA profile.

Catherine stood outside the lab, a worried expression on her face as she watched the lab tech sigh again. "Hey, Griss," she called, small frown creasing her forehead. "Take a look at Greg."

Grissom came over and watched the lab tech hunched over his table, sighing every time he glanced at the clock. "He seems in a melancholy mood," remarked Grissom. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

Catherine gave him a look. "Hm, I wonder...Could it be the fact that he's here when he would much rather be spending his valuable time with his daughters and wife while he still can? Could it be the fact that he's slowly dying of a disease that he could not control or prevent? Or maybe it's because Ecklie denied his request to work only three nights a week."

"What!" exclaimed Grissom. "Ecklie denied his request? On what grounds?"

"I believe it was failure to report mishandling of evidence in a timely manner, although don't hold me on that." She sighed. "Basically, Griss, he gave Greg some crap reason or another and now Greg is stuck here, six nights a week, instead of being at home, where he should be, taking care of his children and his wife."

Grissom growled, deep in his throat. "Son of a…" he muttered darkly, shooting daggers in the direction of Ecklie's office. Suddenly, he turned and strode off in the opposite direction.

"Griss!" called Catherine after him, practically jogging to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"Ecklie may be assistant director of the lab," said Grissom calmly, but with anger radiating from him, "but there are people above him." He paused at the door and looked back at Catherine. "Wish me luck. I'm going to see the director."

* * *

Almost an hour later, Grissom marched triumphantly into the lab, smile on his face. "Hey Nick," he called to the Texan as he passed him. "Greg went home already, right?" 

Nick shook his head, almost sadly. "No, he's still here. Day shift tech called in sick, so Ecklie told Greg he's working overtime. Needless to say, Greg's not too happy. He's in his 'emo-Greg' mood, as Hodges likes to call it."

"Emo-Greg?" asked Grissom, raising an eyebrow at Nick.

Nick shrugged. "You know, emo…emotional…It's a style of music and apparently a style of dressing, too." When Grissom still looked at him blankly, Nick sighed and said, "All it means is Greg's not happy, alright?"

"Ah," said Grissom in understanding. He looked quizzically at Nick. "What about the swing shift tech? Couldn't Ecklie have called him in?"

"Sure," said Nick with a shrug, "but he didn't. Ever since you and Hodges overruled his firing Greg, he's kind of had this vendetta against him."

Grissom shook his head and sighed. "Alright, thanks." He kept walking, heading straight to Greg's lab. Opening the door and entering, he watched as Greg wearily ran some evidence. Grissom wanted to give him a hug and tell him to cheer up, but instead he said, "Greg, go home."

Greg blinked at Grissom. "Sorry, can't," he said, setting a Petri dish on the table with more force than was necessary. "Or haven't you heard? Ecklie's apparently decided to make me the indentured servant of the lab."

Grissom was almost surprised by the venom that dripped from Greg's words. "Greg, it's ok," he said gently. "Just go home."

Greg gave him a look full of pent-up rage and frustration. "Grissom, no offense, but you're just my supervisor. You have no say in whether I work overtime or not."

"He's right, Gil," said Ecklie from the door. He swaggered into the room and smirked at Greg with a smile that curled his lip and didn't meet his eyes. "Here, process this." He set several evidence bags down on the desk.

"Thanks," said Greg stiffly, not meeting Ecklie's eyes. He shuffled forward and grabbed the top bag to begin processing it.

"Tell me, Conrad," said Grissom icily, "do you enjoy making everyone's life miserable? Or is it just Greg's?"

Greg looked up at Grissom, surprised. Ecklie's smile faltered slightly. "I'd watch it, Gil," he said slowly. "You're out of line."

"Is that why you hate Greg, Conrad? Because he gets out of line? Or is it because he's so good and so well liked, you can't even fire him? Because honestly, Ecklie, you shouldn't take out your social ineptitude on Greg."

"You're bordering on insubordination," warned Ecklie through clenched teeth.

"Actually, I think I already crossed it," said Grissom lightly. He looked over at Greg, who was posed over the evidence like a deer in headlights. "I thought I told you to go home, Greg."

"Gil, I believe, as you well know, that this is not your jurisdiction," said Ecklie, calm exterior beginning to shatter. "It's not your decision whether or not Mr. Sanders works overtime today."

"No, it's mine," interrupted a voice from the doorway. Grissom looked over and hid a smile. It was the director, who winked quickly at Grissom before turning back to Ecklie. "Conrad, let's talk outside for a moment, shall we?"

"Of course," said Ecklie silkily, glaring daggers at Grissom as he followed the Director out into the hall.

Grissom smirked at Ecklie and turned victoriously to Greg. "I don't think you'll need to worry about Ecklie anymore."

"Thanks Griss," said Greg, breaking into the first genuine smile he'd had all night. "For sticking up for me and all." He paused, then asked uncertainly, "You did mean all those things, right? About why Ecklie can't fire me?"

"Always, Greggo," said Grissom with a smile.

"Cool," said Greg, relief shining in his eyes. He glanced up at the clock. "Can I go home now?"

"Yes, you may," answered Grissom, hiding a smile.

Greg whooped loudly and grabbed his stuff, practically running for the door. He opened it, gave Grissom another huge grin, and then he was gone.

Shaking his head and still smiling, Grissom left the lab. Passing by Ecklie being chewed out by the director, Grissom couldn't help but smile even wider.

* * *

Greg let himself into the house as quietly as he could. Even though it was after six, he wasn't sure if anyone was still sleeping, and he didn't want to wake them up. Tip-toeing through the house, he stopped by Nicola's room to check on her. She was fast asleep, sprawled over the bed with one hand holding the arm of her teddy bear. 

Greg smiled briefly before closing the door and crossing to Freya's room. She was awake, and gurgled happily when she saw her father. "Hey, sweetheart," whispered Greg, reaching in and picking her up. "What're you doing up so early? You're supposed to be asleep, dreaming your happy baby dreams."

Freya just giggled and blew a spit bubble in response. Greg grinned at her. "Alright," he relented, "You can come with me while I get myself a drink, but you can't tell your mother, ok?"

He carried her into the kitchen and over to the sink. Setting her down on the counter, he opened the cabinet and pulled out about ten to fifteen different pill bottles. He counted out all his pills and carried them over to the table before going back for Freya and a glass of water.

Gulping them down two or three at a time, Greg made a face as he swallowed each pill. Freya cooed happily as she watched her father. Greg wrinkled his nose at her before tickling her gently on her stomach.

"Having fun?" asked Sara from the doorway. She smiled sleepily at her husband before yawning loudly.

Greg looked up and smiled at her. He picked up Freya and crossed over to Sara. "Hey," he said, kissing her gently on the lips. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Don't worry, you didn't," said Sara with another yawn. "I woke up a few minutes before you came in."

Greg nodded in understanding before lying down on the couch with Freya stretched out over his stomach. Shadow came over and snuffled at Freya, who gurgled at him and reached out to hit him on the nose. Shadow whined loudly and curled up on Greg's feet, eyeing Freya disdainfully.

"Oh, look," laughed Sara. "Someone's jealous."

Greg laughed out loud before reaching down and petting Shadow's head. "Don't worry, boy, you're still my favorite pooch, I promise." He leaned back against the arm of the couch and sighed contentedly.

"Long day?" asked Sara as she settled into the armchair across the room.

"Not case-wise," replied Greg, closing his eyes and rubbing them tiredly. "Ecklie denied my request to only work three nights a week."

"What!" exclaimed Sara, almost jumping out of her seat in indignation. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because he hates me," said Greg calmly. "Don't worry, Grissom fixed it. He got the director involved, and I'm fairly certain Ecklie's now up for a demotion."

"Good for Grissom," said Sara, relieved. "If you hadn't been able to work only three days, I would've stormed in there and jacked Ecklie in the face."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," replied Greg, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "However, I wouldn't recommend it. And hopefully with Ecklie out of the way, my request will be approved."

"I'm sure it will," reassured Sara, grabbing Greg's hand and squeezing it. "If not, the director's gonna get it, too."

He smiled wordlessly at her and squeezed her hand back. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, until Greg said quietly, "You know what I'll miss? When I'm gone?"

"What?" whispered Sara, looking at him sadly.

"Just sitting here, like this. Just being here, together. I'll miss that. And I have such little time left to enjoy it."

"I know," whispered Sara, barely able to speak through the tears clogging her voice. "Believe me, I know."

"Sara, I don't want to die," whispered Greg, eyes big and full of fear. "I don't want to leave you and our girls. I don't want to…but I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," said Sara quietly, tears beginning to slip down her cheek. "You don't. I wish to God you did, but you don't. The only choice now is what to do with the time you have left."

Greg smiled crookedly at her. "Say that again, would you?"

She frowned, confused, but repeated, "The only choice now is what to do with the time you have left."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, still smiling slightly. "Dr. Martinez said the same thing. And it's true. And I think I know what I'm going to do."

"What're you going to do?" asked Sara, raising an eyebrow at him.

He smiled gently at her. "Don't worry about it," he whispered, sitting up and picking Freya up. "C'mon, let's go to bed, alright?" He offered Sara a hand to help her up, which she took, entwining her fingers with his.

"Ok," she whispered as they headed up the stairs. "Ok."


	40. Wherever You Will Go

**_A/N:_**_ So, a small part of this chapter was inspired by the _Dawson's Creek_ series finale. I cannot be blamed for being forced to watch that particular episode three times in a row by my mother, who sobbed every single time. The rest is purely me and my muse. Usual disclaimer applies as per usual, and as it always will, and now, the story continues.  
_

Chapter 40- Wherever You Will Go

"So lately, you're wondering  
Who will be there to take my place  
When I'm gone, you'll need love  
To light the shadows on your face  
If the rain will wish I'd fall  
I'd fall upon a star  
And between the sand and stone  
Could you make it on your own

If I could, then I would  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

And maybe, I'll find out  
The way to make it back someday  
To watch you, to guide you  
Through the darkest of your days  
If the rain will wish I'd fall  
I'd fall upon a star  
Well I hope there's someone out there  
Who can bring me back to you

If I could, then I would  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

Runaway with my heart  
Runaway with my hope  
Runaway with my love

I know now, just quite how  
My life and love might still go on  
In your heart and your mind  
I'll stay with you for all of time

If I could, then I would  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

If I could turn back time  
I'll go wherever you will go  
If I could make you mine  
I'll go wherever you will go"

Wherever You Will Go by the Calling

Greg sighed deeply as he looked at the blank computer screen. This was it; it was time to finish it. With another sigh, he moved the mouse and the screen flashed to life, revealing a Word Document titled "Greg's Will." Leaning back in his swivel chair, he read the words he had already typed.

"Dear Everyone,

"Well, if you're reading this, it means I'm no longer with you. At least physically. I mean, not to be presumptuous or anything, but I at least like to think that I'll stay in your memories for awhile. A long while. I'd like to say forever, but forever's a long time, and I daresay you all have a lot more important things and people to remember.

"Which actually brings me to the things I want to make sure are done once I'm gone. Firstly, make sure my girls are taken care of. Nicola, Freya, and Sara…make sure they're taken care of. I would never forgive myself if once I died they got evicted or if my daughters couldn't go to college or something stupid like that. So please, watch over them. Oh, and Nick, since I'm sure Sara's crying by this time, can you grab her a box of Kleenex? Thanks."

Greg smiled slightly. How true. Catherine would probably be crying too, but she was one of those women who always carried a little pack of Kleenex in her purse, so he wasn't too worried about her.

"Alright, so request numero dos. All my worldly possessions, such that they are…well, while it would amuse me to no end to watch Nick, Archie and Warrick fight over my PS2 games (my money's on Warrick—man can kick some serious ass), I'm sure you all don't really want to have to witness that, so I'll make it easy for you. Nick, Warrick, Archie, all the games are conveniently labeled, so y'all can take the ones labeled with your names (And no, Nick, the 'y'all' was not a dig at you, I promise). As far as my other stuff goes, I'm sure Sara will want to keep some of my stuff, so go ahead and use your discretion, sweetheart. Just give Hodges a few shirts or something and tell him they're from me, to improve his fashion sense. The rest of my crap can be packed up and given to charity or whatever. Hell, you can even burn some of the stuff if you want. I really could care less.

"Oh, how could I forget…money. Well, let me put it to you straight. I don't have any. My funds are dried out, my bank account is empty, hell, I'm fairly certain I don't even have twenty bucks in my goddamn wallet. So don't even worry about splitting that up…there's nothing there to split.

"Finally, funeral. Well, planning my own funeral has always kind of creeped me out, so, once again, I leave it to your discretion. I promise I won't hold an eternal grudge against any of you if you do something I don't like (unless if Nick plays country music—then St. Peter's getting an earful). Just try and make sure there isn't too much religious mumbo-jumbo. Oh, and a little Marilyn Manson wouldn't hurt either (Though I thoroughly realize this suggestion will most definitely NOT be heeded, it can't hurt a man to try, right?)."

Greg looked thoughtfully at the computer screen where the words ended and began to type, hesitantly at first, then picking up speed as he went along.

"I guess that's about it, everyone. And then I guess this is good-bye, one last time. I miss you all, and I love you all. Sara, I will love you until the end of all time, and even beyond that. Take care of our daughters.

"And please, don't forget me. Any of you. Please. Firstly, cuz then I'd have to be one of those pissed ghosts who haunts you for the rest of your lives, which would kinda suck for me, and secondly, because if there's one thing I want, it's to be remembered.

"Good-bye everybody. I love you all.

"Yours with all my love,

"Greg Sanders"

Greg leaned back in his chair once more and read over the words. It pretty much summed it up, as best he could. He had never been very good with words. He sighed and pushed the print button. That was one thing taken care of.

Turning away from his desk, he rolled his chair over to where a video camera was perched atop a tripod in the corner. He sighed once more before picking up a piece of paper off the desk and pushing record on the camera. He smiled at the camera. "Hi, Nicola, it's Dad. Look, there are just some things I wanted to tell you about…"

* * *

Three hours later, Sara knocked on the door to his little study and poked her head in. "Everything ok?" she asked concernedly. 

"What? Oh, yeah, everything's fine," said Greg distractedly, not looking up from his computer.

She leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow at him. "Greg, sweetie, I thought you're only working three days now so that you could spend more time with your family, not more time holed up in here doing God knows what."

Greg gave her a look. "I'm almost done, alright?" he said, but his voice masked a smile. "Besides, this is important."

Sara came over to him and put her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin in his shoulder. "What could possibly be more important than your family?" she asked teasingly, eyes scanning the computer screen. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Greg, what are you doing?"

"Er…well, I'm making movies. For Nicola and Freya…and for you." He looked at her earnestly. "Things that I haven't said, or that I want to say again."

She frowned at him. "You have time though," she protested gently. "Time to say everything that needs to be said."

"Time to say some things, sure," said Greg, turning back to his computer, "but not enough time to explain everything. I mean, I'm not going to be here to help Nicola with her chemistry homework, or tell Freya that guys are jerks after her first break up. I'm not going to be here for any of that. So I figured I'd tell them the only way that I know how, through videos."

Sara nodded slowly and gave him a sad smile as she sat on the edge of the desk. "I can understand all that," she said quietly, "but what things do you have to say to me? There's not much to say that you can't say now."

"No, but what about our first anniversary?" pointed out Greg. "Or Freya's first birthday? Or my birthday? Or whenever you get lonely? This is one way that I know at least a part of me will be here for you."

She couldn't stop the tears as they began their journey down her face. "Greg," she whispered, reaching for his hand, "not just a part of you will be with me. All of you will."

"I know," whispered Greg, just as quietly, "but just in case you ever need a reminder…"

"Thank you," said Sara genuinely, tears sparkling on her cheeks and in her eyes. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Greg smiled at her, a slightly bittersweet smile. "I'm glad you like it," he said gently. "I just wanted to make sure that you won't forget me or something."

"Greg, I could never forget you," she said seriously, eyes searching his. "How could I possibly forget you? I love you. I will always love you, and I would never forgive myself if I forgot you."

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. And I just want you to know that when I'm gone, I won't…I won't begrudge you for moving on. I mean, I know it's going to be lonely, and—"

Sara shook her head emphatically. "No. No matter how lonely I get, or how hard it may be, I will not move on. Greg, I. Love. You. Period, end of discussion. You. And no matter what, that will never, ever change." She gripped his hand tighter. "On our wedding day, I swore to be yours forever, and that has not changed, nor will it ever change."

"I just want you to be happy," whispered Greg, tears in his eyes. "Even if it means you marrying someone else down the road."

"That won't make me happy, though," she whispered, tears shining in her eyes as well. "You're the only one that makes me happy." She smiled at him. "You always make me laugh."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," sniffed Greg, trying to sound wounded.

"It's a compliment, baby, I promise," she said with a smile, coming over and sitting on his lap. "I would never insult you…to your face, at least."

He groaned loudly. 'I always knew you and Nick were making fun of me behind my back," he said grumpily, but he was smiling, and he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. "When do you go back to work?"

"Mmm…tomorrow," she said, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

"Wish you didn't have to," he murmured against her hair. "I'll never get to see you cuz you'll always be working."

"I won't always be working," she protested. "I'm working six hour shifts only, with overtime only when absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, but what constitutes absolutely necessary?" asked Greg, smiling into her hair. "What you deem necessary and what the rest of the world deems necessary tend to be two opposite things."

"Tell you what," she said, leaning away from him and looking up at him seriously, "if I think I need to stay overtime, I'll call you and make sure it's absolutely necessary, alright?"

"Honey, I was joking," said Greg gently. He pulled her close again and rested his cheek against her head. "Although a phone call probably wouldn't hurt."

"Alright, alright, I'll call," said Sara, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. Her gaze softened as she smiled at him. "Besides, you know I'll probably be calling every fifteen minutes anyway just to make sure you guys are alright."

"Yeah, think of how bad it'll be when both of us are at work," said Greg with a grin. "Poor babysitter will never want to work again."

"Probably," agreed Sara with a laugh. She stood up and kissed Greg before saying, "Well, I'm going to go make dinner."

"That's right, woman," said Greg cheekily, his eyes twinkling in hidden laughter. "You go make my dinner."

Sara gasped theatrically. "How dare you speak to me like that!" she exclaimed. She smiled at him, then leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Remember, Greg, I am authorized to carry and use a firearm."

"Leave!" he complained, shoving her gently toward the door. "I'll not stand for your idle threats! Besides, I want to finish this."

"Fine, fine," said Sara. She kissed him once on top of his head before leaving.

Greg smiled after her before turning back to his computer.


	41. For Good

**_A/N:_**_ The beginning of the end, my friends. Usual disclaimer; I also don't own Marilyn Manson or _Evita_. Read on..._

Chapter 41- For Good

"I've heard it said that people come into our lives  
For a reason bringing something we must learn  
And we are led to those who help us most to grow  
If we let them, and we help them in return  
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true  
But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit  
As it passes the sun  
Like a stream that meets a boulder  
Halfway through the wood  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
But because I knew you  
I have been changed  
For good

It well may be that we will never meet again  
In this lifetime, so let me say before we part  
So much of me is made of what I learned from you  
You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart  
And now whatever way our stories end  
Know you have rewritten mine by being my friend

Like a ship blown from its mooringBy a wind off the sea  
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird  
In a distant wood  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
I do believe I have been changed for the better  
And because I knew you  
Because I knew you  
Because I knew you  
I have been changed  
For good"

For Good from Wicked

It was late October and Greg sat in Dr. Martinez's office, lounging in a chair while waiting for his latest test results. Sara sat next to him, immersed in some gossip magazine or another.

Dr. Martinez walked in, examining Greg's file. "Hey, what's up, Doc?" asked Greg cheerfully.

She gave him a look as she set his file down and settled in her chair. "You know very well what's up, Greg," she said sternly. "I thought I told you to come in the moment you thought something was up."

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I've been busy," he muttered, concentrating on a spot on the floor.

Sara looked between him and the doctor and said, almost nervously, "Um, well, I'm glad Greg knows what's going on, but I don't, so…"

Dr. Martinez sighed deeply and leaned forward, folding her hands on her desk. "Sara, Greg's t-cell count has dropped back down to the single digits. At this rate, I'd give him a week, tops." Sara gasped aloud but Greg didn't look surprised by the news, still staring fixedly at the floor. "Now," continued Dr. Martinez, "there are a few options. We could put him back in the hospital, in the sterile environment…"

Greg began to shake his head, but Sara cut him off, asking, "How much time would it buy him?"

"It could give him anywhere from a day to a week longer," replied Dr. Martinez.

"No," said Greg calmly, leaving back in his chair. "I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to go through that again. It's not worth it."

"Greg, you have to!" protested Sara. "It could give you up to a week longer to live. You can't not do that!"

"A week longer, sure," agreed Greg. "But a week without being with you and the girls? A week alone without being able to say good-bye properly? What kind of week would that be? It wouldn't be a week worth living." He looked at her seriously. "Please, Sara, please. I want it this way. I'm dying. I've been dying for a long time, a very long time, and this is just time for it all to end. But let it end on my terms, surrounded by the people I love."

"Are you asking for my permission to allow you to die? Is that what you're asking? 'Cause I can't do that. I won't. I will not give you permission to die."

"I'm not asking your permission," said Greg calmly, but with steel in his voice. "I'm asking for you to understand and respect my decision, even if you don't agree with it. Please, Sara," he pleaded gently, dark eyes searching hers. "Let me go home. Let me be at home with you when I die. Please."

"Greg, you realize that one you leave here today, you'll be going home to die," interjected Dr. Martinez concernedly.

Greg closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I'm going home to die. It's time. I'm so tired of fighting. Please, just let me go in peace."

"Fine," whispered Sara, taking one of his hands in hers as the tears streamed down her face. "If you're sure it's what you want."

"Thank you," he said, relief evident in both his face and his voice. "Thank you for understanding."

Dr. Martinez nodded slowly, though she looked at Greg sadly. "I'll get you the forms you need to fill out," she said quietly, getting up and leaving.

Greg looked at Sara and smiled through his tears. "Call everyone, will you?" he asked. "Tell them to meet us at the house. It's time to say good-bye."

* * *

It was a very somber group that met Greg and Sara at their house. Catherine was already crying, and even Warrick's eyes were wet with tears. Sara and Grissom helped Greg from the car, and then he stood there, looking calmly at all of them. "Alright," he said, quirking one eyebrow at them. "Now, I'm not gonna go lie down in my bed so you all can say good-bye to me like I'm a freakin' invalid. I'm just gonna go sit into the living room and chill, and you guys can duke it out to see who gets to say good-bye first." 

He started to shuffle up to the house but then lost his balance and almost fell over. As Sara rushed to help him, for the first time, the rest of the team could see how weak he'd gotten. As Sara helped him into the house, everyone else turned to each other. "I don't want to go first," whispered Catherine. "I don't think I can do it yet. I need to think of what to say." She looked at everyone for conformation and they all nodded. Grissom squeezed her arm wordlessly.

Warrick cleared his throat. "I'll go," he volunteered quietly. "I just wanna get it over with."

Nick patted him on the back and Warrick headed into the house. He knocked on the living room door. "Hey, man, can I come in?" he asked, poking his head around the doorway.

True to his word, Greg was indeed in the living room on the couch, though he wasn't quite "chilling." Instead, he was lying down, eyes closed and breathing shallow. When he heard Warrick, he opened is eyes and sat up. "Sure, 'Rick, come on down. You're the first contestant on 'Say Good-Bye to Greg!' Just for playing, we'll give you five free minutes to say whatever you want."

"No jokes, man, ok?" said Warrick, slumping into an armchair next to the couch. "I don't think I can stand them right now."

"You can't stand them?" asked Greg, raising an eyebrow and chuckling dryly. "Believe me, man, laughter may be the only thing I have left. Without it, this would be so goddamn depressing."

"Greg, you're dying," said Warrick. "In case you didn't notice, it doesn't get much more depressing than this."

"Which is exactly why we need some humor to lighten the situation," said Greg. When Warrick didn't respond, he sighed almost dejectedly. "Alright, have it your way. No humor." He paused and looked at Warrick seriously. "When I'm gone, you and Nick have to take care of Sara and the girls. Make sure Freya grows up knowing that I love her. Make sure she doesn't forget her daddy." He closed his eyes briefly and then smiled gently. "Bye, 'Rick."

"That's all?" asked Warrick, raising both eyebrows. "That's all I get? Nothing else? You have nothing else to say to me?"

"Well, you forbade humor, and that threw half my schpeel out the window," said Greg with a shrug. "I dunno, man, what do you want me to say?"

Warrick was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. "I dunno…I just dunno." He looked at Greg and half-smiled. "We're bros, man, alright? And you had better remember that. Til the end of time."

He held out his fist and Greg hit it gently with his own. "Bros, man," repeated Greg, smiling sadly. "Forever and always."

* * *

Nick hovered at the doorway to the living room, debating with himself whether or not to go in. Grissom had offered to go before him, but Nick had told him that he deserved to say good-bye to Greg last. Now Nick stood there, knowing he should go in and say good-bye, and yet not wanting to. 

Suddenly, Greg's voice broke through the reverie of his thoughts. "Hey, Nick, are you gonna stand out there all day, or what?" Greg's voice sounded amused, although it did nothing to mask the tiredness or pain behind it.

Mentally cursing, Nick coughed slightly and said, "Uh, yeah, I'm coming, sorry." He went in and gave Greg a tight smile. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Greg shrugged and yawned. "Oh, you know, my lungs are coughing themselves up, my immune system is shot, my entire body is shutting down, and I'm in the worst pain I've ever been in in my life, but other than that, things are going swell." He paused, then winced. "Sorry, that sounded bitchy. If it weren't for the fact that I'm about to kick the bucket, I'd recommend you leave and come back when I'm in a better mood."

"I wish I could leave and not have to say good-bye," said Nick sadly, settling into the armchair and staring broodingly into space. He sighed and looked back at Greg. "I don't want to say good-bye, G."

"I don't want to say good-bye either," whispered Greg. 'I don't want to say good-bye to any of you. Hell, I don't want to die. But I'm going to, and soon, and there are still things I need to say."

"Well, then, speak," said Nick with a small half-smile. "By all means, speak. God knows I've never been able to stop you before."

Greg didn't smile, though the serious expression on his face softened. "Well, firstly, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend. You've taught me so much, Nicky, more than you even know, and I just hope I've been able to teach you something in return."

"You have, Greggo," whispered Nick. "Believe me, you have. Hell, you even taught me to appreciate Marilyn Manson."

"And you taught me that maybe country music isn't the devil incarnate," said Greg reluctantly, sighing and rolling his eyes dramatically. He smiled at Nick. "Bye, Nick."

"Bye, Greg," whispered Nick, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

"Don't cry for me," said Greg worriedly. He paused and then a grin spread over his face and he continued, "For I am ordinary, unimportant." He looked expectantly at Nick, who gave him a blank look in return. Greg sighed and added helpfully, "And undeserving of such attention…" Nick still looked beyond confused. Greg rolled his eyes and sang loudly, "Don't cry for me, Argentina, for I am ordinary, unimportant, and undeserving of such attention, unless we all are, I think we all are, so share my glory, so share my coffin." Nick gaped at him, open-mouthed. Greg gave Nick a look. "Didn't you ever see Evita?"

"Hell no!" said Nick, laughing. "What the hell do you think I am, a girl?"

"Hey, I saw it, and I am most definitely in possession of a y-chromosome," said Greg defensively.

"Yeah, but you're weird…and you've gotta admit, you're a bit…er…a bit…" stammered Nick, trailing off.

"I'm a bit what?" asked Greg, raising one eyebrow at Nick.

"Er…well, a bit feminine," said Nick in a rush.

"Feminine? You're calling me feminine on my deathbed?" exclaimed Greg. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? I will not stand here and take this insult!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're not standing, isn't it?" said Nick mildly.

"Hey, which one of us is married, huh?" asked Greg with a smirk. They fell into comfortable silence until Greg said, "I'll miss this…just dicking around with you like this…it's one of the things I'll miss the most…"

"Hell, Greg, the thing I'll miss most is you," said Nick quietly. "You've changed me, for better or for worse, I dunno, but you've changed me for good."

"You've changed me, too," said Greg, smiling at him. "And I promise, a part of me will always be with you, just like a part of you will always be with me." He started fake crying theatrically and sniffled overdramatically, "I love you, Nicky."

Nick chuckled appreciatively. "I love you, too, Greggo," he said, shaking his head in gentle reproach of his theatrics. He leaned over and gave him a hug "I'm gonna go, now, cuz I know Catherine is probably itchin' to come in and say good-bye. So, I'll see you around, man, ok?"

Greg reached out and caught Nick's arm as he turned away. "Bye, Nick," he said seriously.

Nick smiled at him. "Bye, Greg," he whispered, grasping his hand tightly. "Good-bye."


	42. Carry On Wayward Son

**_A/N: _**_And the sadness continues...Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter up. I was in Texas for about four days. Anywho, usual disclaimer. Rock._

Chapter 42- Carry On Wayward Son

"Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more"

Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas

Catherine took a deep breath and steeled herself as she paused outside the living room door before knocking and going in. As she entered the room, Greg broke into a fit of racking coughs, and as he brought his hands down from his mouth, she was surprised to see ruby-red flecks of blood against his pale skin. Her maternal reaction was to take him in her arms and rock him until he fell asleep, but she refrained.

"Greg," she whispered, coming and sitting on the floor next to the couch. "Greg, I don't want to say good-bye."

He opened one eye and half-smiled at her. "You don't have to, you know. After all, you'll be joining me in Heaven soon enough."

She opened her mouth in shock and socked him lightly on the arm. "Did you just call me old? I cannot believe I'm sitting here, trying to be serious, and then you call me old!"

He grinned then, that cheeky grin that lit up his whole face so mischievously, and made him almost look healthy again. "I'm sorry, Cath," he said, sugar sweet, then muttered under his breath "In denial…"

"Gregory Hojem Sanders, if it weren't for the fact that you're dying, I would totally kick your ass!"

"See, dying does have one advantage," he whispered, still smiling, but then he turned serious. "Catherine, I know I've been an annoying little bastard most of the time that you've known me, always complimenting your ass or your boobs, but I just want you to know, every compliment was true." She gave him a look and he half-smiled again. "Ok, ok, serious time…my mom died when I was four, but I like to think that if she had lived, she'd be a lot like you. So, um, thanks. Thanks for being like a mom to me."

"Greg, I couldn't love you more if you were my son," said Catherine, smiling slightly. "I've watched you grow from a fresh-out-of-college kid to head DNA lab tech. I've watched you fall in love, get married, have a child…Greg, I feel as if you truly are my son." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I want to apologize, Greg."

"Apologize?" repeated Greg, confused. "For what?"

"For the lab explosion," she whispered. "I'm sorry. It was my fault, and I'm so sorry."

"Cath, we've been through this," he said reaching out and grabbing her hand. "I don't blame you. I can't blame you. It was an accident, Cath, emphasis on accident. I know you didn't mean to blow me or the lab up, and I've forgiven you, not that there's anything to forgive. I could've very easily stuck some chemical in there and blown myself up."

"Yeah, I guess…" said Catherine reluctantly. She smiled at a sudden memory. "Still wish it had been Hodges, though."

Greg laughed out loud, then shook his head. "Nah, Hodges isn't that bad…now if it had been Ecklie…"

"Yeah…" said Catherine wistfully. She smiled at Greg. "So, are we cool?"

"We've always been cool," said Greg gently. "We're always cool." He squeezed her hand. "Bye, Cath. Try not to miss me too much when I'm gone."

"I'll try," she whispered, smiling sadly as she leaned in and gave him a hug. "I know I won't succeed, but I'll try." She squeezed his hand back and whispered, "Godspeed, Greg. Godspeed."

* * *

Grissom sat next to Greg, blue eyes watching the young man as he fitfully slept. Suddenly, Greg stirred. His eyelids fluttered open and he croaked, "Grissom?" 

"Hey," said Grissom quietly. He looked concernedly at the young CSI. "You should be in bed, Greg. You need to rest."

Greg gave Grissom a look. "I already told you, I'm not going to go lie in bed like I'm…" He trailed off.

"Like you're dying?" supplied Grissom, raising an eyebrow at Greg.

"Yeah, whispered Greg, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, like I'm dying."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Greg, but you are dying," said Grissom sardonically.

Greg smiled wryly. "No, really Griss? Did you just now notice? I mean, wow, what was your first clue? What could possibly have tipped you off?"

Grissom didn't even bat an eye. "Glad your sarcasm is still intact," he commented mildly.

Blushing slightly, Greg said quietly, "I'm sorry, Grissom. That was out of line. I just don't want to say good-bye."

Grissom shrugged. "Nothing to forgive, Greggo. I don't want to say good-bye either." Greg nodded slowly and tried to sit up, gasping for breath as he felt suddenly winded. Grissom leaned forward, brow furrowing in worry. "Greg, are you ok?" he asked. "Greg?"

"Can't…breathe…" wheezed Greg, coughing.

Grissom stood up and picked up the emaciated lab tech easily. "You're going upstairs to your bed," he told Greg firmly, in tones that bore no room for argument. "You can barely breathe and you should be in an environment where you can lie down easier."

"Fine," said Greg, too exhausted to argue. Grissom started up the stairs and towards Sara and Greg's room, pausing only to call over his shoulder to tell Sara where he was going.

He set Greg down gently into the bed, pulling up the blankets and wrapping them around his thin frame. He then placed several pillows underneath Greg's head so he could sit up easier. "Thanks, Mom," said Greg with a small smile.

Grissom rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn't help but smile back. "You're welcome…though if you ever call me 'mom' again, your death won't be related to AIDS, I promise." His expression turned somber as he perched on the edge of the bed. "You know, I never had a family," he remarked, staring off into space. "Not like you and Sara. Never had time to settle down because I was always buried in my work."

"Yeah, but you're good at what you do," protested Greg gently. "If it weren't for you, the crime lab probably wouldn't even be in the top ten."

"Yeah, but what sacrifice did I have to make for that success? And what do I have to show for that? Nothing." Grissom sighed and shook his head. "Nothing."

Greg shook his head as well, more firmly than Grissom. "You've got plenty to show for it. Take a walk around one of the state penitentiaries and see how many of those perps you put away. You're a damn good criminalist, Griss, and though you may not have a wife and kids, you've got us."

Grissom smiled at Greg. "This is starting to sound suspiciously like a conversation you and I had, about a year ago."

"Yeah, well, what can I say, I learned from the best," said Greg with a grin. "But seriously, you told me that you were someone I could trust and count on and love, and if that doesn't make you like my father, then hell if I know what does." He grabbed Grissom's hand. "Griss, you are more of a father to me than my own dad could ever be…and not just for obvious reasons, either. You've taught me so much and been there by my side, even just to yell at me when I step out of line." Grissom smiled and started to interject, but Greg cut him off. "No, wait, I'm not done. If we at the crime lab aren't your family, then I think that great scientific brain of yours needs to reexamine just what family means."

"Greg," said Grissom warningly, this time managing to cut him off. "I do think that you all are my family, and you will never hear my say otherwise. You're my son, or the closest thing I will ever have to one." He paused, then said gruffly, "I love you, Greggo, like the son I always wanted, like the son I found in you."

"And I love you like the dad I always searched for," whispered Greg, squeezing his hand. Grissom smiled warmly at the young man through the tears in his eyes. Greg yawned widely. "I hate to cut this short," he said through the yawn, "but I'm really tired, and I need to rest before I have to say good-bye to my girls."

Grissom nodded briskly and stood, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Greg's. "I'll let you get to it, then."

He started to turn but Greg caught his arm. "Bye, Griss," he whispered, then he half-smiled. "Or should I say, 'Bye, Dad.'"

Grissom blinked down at him once before leaning over and gathering him close in a hug. "Good-bye, son," he whispered roughly, conscious of the tears running down his face. He pulled back and wiped his eyes. "Bye Greggo."

Greg smiled gently before leaning back against his pillow, eyes already closing in sleep. "Bye, Grissom," he yawned. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," whispered Grissom as he watched the young man fall to sleep. "More than you will ever know."


	43. We're Gonna Be Fine

**_A/N:_**_ Well, I wasn't going to post this chapter until tomorrow, but then I got two more lovely reviews, and now feel obligated to post this now. Usual disclaimer. Not too much to say about this one. I don't own _Casablanca_ or the song "Time After Time." Read away..._

Chapter 43- We're Gonna Be Fine

"Hey, it's ok now  
Try not to cry  
I don't understand this  
Even though I try  
You must go your way  
I must go mine  
And we're gonna be fine

I have to leave now  
I know I do  
A million reasons say so  
Just one says stay—it's you  
But look how you're smiling  
Is that a sign  
That we're gonna be fine

In ways I still can't name  
I'll never be the same  
You reminded me that I could fly  
There's so much that you've already taught me  
Can you teach me how to say good-bye

We must move on now  
We'll see this through  
It's nothing more than  
The grown-up thing to do  
But always inside me  
Your smile will shine  
And we're gonna be fine"

We're Gonna Be Fine from Big: The Musical

A few hours later, Greg woke up. Sara sat next to him, stroking his hand gently. He looked up at her and sighed. "Do you want to go get the girls?" he asked quietly. "I need to see them now, and say good-bye."

She nodded mutely and stood, hurrying from the room. Greg closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow, only opening them again as he felt Nicola throw herself on him. He smiled at her. "Hey, sweetie."

She looked worriedly at him. "Daddy, what's going on? Sara won't tell me, and Aunt Catherine won't stop crying, and Uncle Nicky punched a wall, and—"

"Hey, how about you give me a minute to tell you, alright?" said Greg with a smile, but his eyes remained sad. He sat up slowly and put an arm around Nicola's shoulders. "Nicola, remember when your mom died? I told you that I was going to die soon, too. Well, it's time now. I'm going to go see your mom in Heaven, and I won't be able to be here with you anymore."

Nicola looked at him blankly, face pale. "You're gonna die?" she asked quietly, big blue eyes huge.

Greg nodded. "Yes, sweetie. My body's about ready to give out, and when it does, I'm gonna die."

"But Daddy, you can't die," said Nicola, pitch wavering towards hysteria. "I still need you here! You can't leave me!"

"Sweetheart, I will never leave you," whispered Greg, holding her to him and closing his eyes. "I will always be with you, even if my body isn't here anymore."

"So, you'll be like my guardian angel?"

Greg smiled sadly and kissed her on top of her head. "Exactly. I'll be your guardian angel, watching you from above."

She leaned back and smiled at him. "See, I told you that you were my hero," she said quietly before she threw her arms around him and gave him a huge hug and kiss. "Good-bye, Daddy," she whispered. "I'll miss you."

She hugged him tightly once more before she ran from the room in tears. Sara shared a worried look with Greg and handed him Freya, saying, "I'll go after her. You say good-bye to Freya."

Greg nodded, taking his daughter in his arms. "Hey," he whispered, smiling down at her. She giggled and blew a spit bubble at him, oblivious to what was going on. "Now's when I'm glad you're a baby, so I don't have to explain all of this to you," he said quietly, rocking her gently. "All I need you to know is that I love you. Even if you never remember one thing about me, remember that I love you. Because that is one constant in your life that I promise will never change, no matter what. Even when you're old and gray, I will still love you." He kissed her on the cheek. "Good-bye, my daughter, my baby," he whispered, tears slipping down his face.

Sara came back in the room and took Freya from his when he handed her to her. Greg waved one last time at Freya as Sara carried her from the room. Lying back against his pillow, Greg closed his eyes, allowing the tears to flood down his cheeks.

Sara came back in and silently took his hand. "God, Greg, I don't even know where to begin," she whispered, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. "I don't know how to say good-bye to you."

"I wish I knew how to say good-bye," he said slowly. He turned to look at her and his expression softened. "Hey, don't cry," he whispered, reaching out and stroking her cheek with one hand. "I hate it when you cry. It'll be ok, sweetheart. One way or another."

"How can it be?" she asked sadly. "You're dying and leaving me here alone. How could that possibly be ok?"

"I'm not leaving you alone," he protested gently, weaving his fingers with hers. "I will never leave you, no matter what. I will always be with you." He paused, then asked contemplatively, "Remember our honeymoon?"

"How could I forget?" she asked mischievously, slow smile spreading over her face.

He grinned, then continued, "Not that part. Remember when we went and danced in the woods?" She nodded silently, eyes searching his, wondering where he was going with this. "Well, remember that song I played for you? Here, I'll refresh your memory a bit." He took a deep breath and sang quietly,

"If you're lost, you can look  
And you will find me  
Time after time  
And if you fall, I will catch you  
I'll be waiting  
Time after time."

"I promise you, Sara," he said quietly, looking her straight in the eyes, "that's how it'll be with me. I will always be here with you."

"I know," she whispered, tears glinting in her eyes even as she tried her hardest to smile. "I know." She paused, then said worriedly, "I'm just so afraid of what I'm going to do when I can't smell you anymore, when I can no longer hear your voice or your laugh. I don't know what I'll do."

"That's what I made those tapes for," reminded Greg gently. "So that if you ever need to see me or hear me, I'm there. I promised that, and it won't change." She nodded, tears still shining in her eyes. "Hey," he said, smiling sadly as he squeezed her hand. "We'll always have Vegas."

"_Casablanca_?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Who knew you were such a big Humphrey Bogart fan…"

He just grinned at her. "Here's looking at you, kid," he said gruffly before leaning in and kissing her, deeply and sweetly and everything she needed to feel at that moment. She kissed him back, throwing her arms around her neck and leaning into it. He broke the kiss after a few seconds. "Ok, I think that's enough of that," he said, breathing slightly heavily. He smiled at her, a smile so brilliant and so poignant at the same time that it almost tore her heart in two. "I love you. This is not a final good-bye, because we will see each other some day. This is more like an 'until we meet again.'"

"Until we meet again," whispered Sara, touching his hand. "That has hope to it."

"Yeah," agreed Greg quietly. "Hold on to that hope, even when I'm not here. It'll help you get through the day."

She nodded slowly and clung to his hand tightly. "Greg, I promised I would never leave you. How can this happen?"

"Hey, it's ok," whispered Greg. "You will never leave me, just like I will never leave you. But where I'm going now, you can't follow." He kissed her once more before drawing her against him and just holding her for a few seconds. He let her go and lay back against his pillow slowly. "I'm really tired," he whispered, eyes beginning to close. "I'm gonna sleep now."

"Alright," she whispered, stroking his hand gently. "Sleep well. I love you, and I'll be here when you wake up."

He nodded, eyes already closed, and he murmured before he fell asleep, "I love you, too."

* * *

_**A/N:** No, not quite the final good-bye yet. That's in the next chapter. So, just for reference, he's not dead yet. Just sleeping._  



	44. Slipped Away

**_A/N:_**_ Short. For obvious reasons. This chapter was REALLY hard to write. I don't own them. I never will._

Chapter 44- Slipped Away

"Now you're gone, now you're gone  
There you go, there you go  
Somewhere I can't bring you back  
Now you're gone, now you're gone  
There you go, there you go  
Somewhere you're not coming back

The day you slipped away  
Was the day I found it won't be the same  
The day you slipped away  
Was the day I found it won't be the same"

Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne

Greg slept for almost two days straight, in such a deep sleep that Sara almost had to check him to make sure he was still breathing. Then, suddenly, while she was almost nodding off in the chair next to his bed, he woke up.

"Sara," he whispered, eyes blinking in the dimness of the room. "Sara, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, Greg, I'm here," she said, sitting up and grabbing his hand. "What is it?"

He looked at her, calm and content. "It's time, Sara." He closed his eyes and nodded gently. "Yes, it's time." His eyes met hers again and she noticed that there was no fear in them, only quiet peace and love. "I love you, Sara. You are the only woman I have ever loved so fully and so completely, and this love will live until the end of time. You have my heart forever."

Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she squeezed his hand. "I love you, too," she choked out, smiling a little at him. "Wait for me, wherever you go, and I'll find you there. I promise."

He nodded slowly. "Kiss me," he whispered suddenly. "Kiss me as if it were our last."

"_Casablanca_ again?" whispered Sara, raising one eyebrow, but she leaned in and kissed him anyway, deeply and sweetly, and trying to show him just how much she loved him.

They broke the kiss and sat in silence for a few minutes. "Sara," whispered Greg, leaning forward slightly.

"Yeah, Greg?" she asked, leaning forward as well so she could hear what he was going to say.

"Sara, I have to tell you a secret. It's important, really important, and you can't tell anyone," he said seriously.

She swallowed hard, but nodded. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

He took a deep breath. "Sara, my secret stash of Blue Hawaiian…it's in the pantry, top shelf, behind the Hershey bars you hid up there during your pregnancy. And at work, it's in my desk."

She couldn't help but smile even as she shook her head, tears reforming in her eyes. "Greg, you're incorrigible," she whispered. "Even on your deathbed, you can't be serious."

He smiled weakly through the pain. "Sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I just wanted to see you smile once more."

He took another deep breath, though this one was harder. It was really time. Locking eyes with Sara, he took both of her hands, squeezing them. "Sara," he whispered, "I love you. Never forget that."

"And don't you dare forget that I love you," she choked out through her tears.

He gripped her hands tighter. She watched as his chest struggled to rise and fall. A peaceful look came over his face, and his eyes, never once leaving her face, closed for the last time. He squeezed her hands lightly once more, and then he was still.

Sara knew he was gone, knew it in the sudden emptiness of the room. Feeling the tears streaming down her face, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead.

She stood and walked toward the doorway, pausing only for a moment to look back and whisper once more, "Good-bye."

* * *

_**A/N:** Six more chapters to go, even without Greg._  



	45. If I Never Knew You

**_A/N:_**_ I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter of the entire story. Woohoo. Italicized numerals in parentheses (i.e. (6)) refer to the footnote. There's so much in this chapter that I don't own, number one being the Bible and any quotes from it. I don't own any of the quotes or the Norwegian language. Otherwise, usual disclaimer still applies. Enjoy.  
_

Chapter 45- If I Never Knew You

"If I never knew you  
If I never felt this love  
I would have no inkling of  
How precious life can be  
And if I never held you  
I would never have a clue  
Now at last I finally knew  
The missing part of me

In this world so full of fear  
Full of rage and lies  
I can see the truth so clear  
In your eyes  
So dry your eyes

And I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you

If I never knew you  
I'd be safe but half as real  
Never knowing I could feel  
A love so strong and true  
I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you

I thought our love would be so beautiful  
Somehow we make the whole world bright  
I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong  
All they'd leave us were these whispers in the night  
But still my heart is singing we were right

If I never knew you  
If I never knew your love  
I would have no inkling of  
How precious life can be

There's no moment I regret  
Since the moment that we met  
If our time has gone too fast  
I've lived at last

I thought our love would be so beautiful  
Somehow we make the whole world bright  
I thought our love would be so beautiful  
We'd turn the darkness into light  
And still my heart is singing we were right  
We were right

And if I never knew you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Empty as the sky  
Never knowing why  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you"

If I Never Knew You as sung by Jon Secada and Shanice in Disney's Pocahontas

The day of October the 31st dawned bright and clear. There was something almost funny about Greg's funeral being held on Halloween. Sara had insisted on it, firstly, because it made sense, time-wise. It allowed the funeral home a day to make him ready, and then gave a day for the wake.

Technically, they should have had two days for the wake, due to all the people that came. Sara had never expected such an out-pouring of support.

Secondly, Sara knew that Greg would've wanted his funeral on Halloween. After all, his semi-goth side had always reveled in the pagan day of spirits.

Either way, while the day of his funeral was bright and strangely cheerful, the 30th of October, the day of Greg's wake, was dark and damp. Sara knew it was going to be hell. She arrived at the funeral home around two in the afternoon; the wake was scheduled to begin at three.

Just going into that stale room that reeked of death and formaldehyde made Sara's stomach clench. Greg's casket had already been moved into the room and the florist was bringing in the flowers. A string of people brought in the flowers…and more flowers…and more flowers…It was only then that Sara realized how many lives Greg had touched. Bouquets and arrangements poured in from friends all across America, from college buddies from Stanford to old friends from New York to people Sara had never even heard of. At that moment, though, she loved them all.

She was not alone at the funeral home, however. Grissom, Nick, Warrick and Catherine also joined her. Together they sat in the main room, trying hard not to look at Greg's coffin, which dominated one end of the room. Sara turned to Catherine and asked quietly, "Where're the girls?"

"They're with Lindsey and my mother," said Catherine, just as quietly. "My mom's bringing them by later. I though Nicola would want to be here, at least for a little while."

Sara nodded slowly, mind still numb. Suddenly, she started to chuckle. "You know what's funny?" she asked, rocking back and forth as she laughed. "I'm not even forty years old yet and I'm a widow. I'm a widow." Her laughter turned to sobs and she broke down.

Both Grissom and Nick, who were sitting beside her, wrapped their arms around her. Neither could think of anything to say to comfort her, so they both just let her cry it out.

A few minutes later, her tears subsided, and she sniffled loudly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want to cry today."

"Sara, it's ok to cry," whispered Catherine, kneeling in front of her and taking one of her hands and squeezing it. "Greg won't be mad at you for crying. In fact," she said, smiling gently, "I imagine he'd be royally pissed if you didn't cry. You know how he likes attention."

"Liked attention," corrected Sara softly.

"No, Sara, likes attention," said Catherine, just as softly. "He still exists, even if just in our hearts and memories."

The funeral home director came up to Sara then. "Mrs. Sanders, we're going to start letting people in now. If you'd like to stand up next to the casket…"

Sara nodded mutely and slowly stood. The rest of the CSIs stood as well, looking uncomfortable. She turned to them. "Come stand with me," she whispered.

Warrick shook his head slowly. "No, it's supposed to be for family only, and…"

"You were his family," said Sara gently. "All of you, all of us, we were the only family he had. He would want you up here."

Grissom nodded in assent and stood next to her. Nick, Catherine and Warrick followed suit, all standing in a line next to Greg's casket. The doors opened, and the first people came in, led by Doc Robbins and his wife, followed by Archie, Bobby, Jacqui and Hodges.

Doc Robbins took his time at Greg's casket. Though he couldn't kneel on the provided kneeler, he stood there for a good five minutes, looking over Greg with a saddened look on his face. After a few minutes, he walked over to Sara and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "He was so young," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "It's something I'll never understand: why men like me grow old and men like Greg die so young."

"Think about it, Doc," whispered Sara, though tears shone in her eyes, too. "Would Greg honestly want to grow old and bent? Could you imagine him with gray hair? He went in his prime, and I somehow think it's what he would've wanted."

"Maybe," agreed Doc Robbins, "but it doesn't make it any easier."

"No," said Sara. "Nothing will ever make it any easier."

Doc Robbins nodded and moved on, allowing the line behind him to move as well. Over the next few hours, Sara shook hands and hugged more people than she ever had before, including probably hundreds of people she had never even heard of or met before.

Finally, around eight, the line began to wind down. They had originally planned on ending the wake at eight, but Sara asked to extend it to nine, so all the people waiting could say good-bye to Greg.

When everyone had finished, it was all the CSIs' turns. Warrick went first. He smiled sadly at Greg. "Hey, man, I'll see you in the next life, alright? In the meantime, try not to give the big guy up there too much trouble."

Catherine went next. She kneeled down next to him and whispered, "We all miss you, Greggo. Watch over us all."

Nick almost threw himself on the kneeler, allowing himself to cry for the first time that day. "I don't know what to say, man," he choked out. "I've already said it all. I guess good-bye, one last time. I miss you."

Grissom knelt next. He looked at the still body of his once vibrant lab tech, the man who had once been so alive. He said the only words that came to him.

"Hail Mary, full of grace For the Lord is with Thee  
Blessed art thou among women  
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb  
Holy Mary, mother of God  
Pray for us sinners now  
And at the hour of our death  
Amen."

He looked at Greg with tears in his normally stoic eyes. "Good-bye, my son," he whispered.

Sara started shaking uncontrollably as she knelt next to Greg's open casket. "Greg," she croaked, reaching in and touching his hand, oblivious to how cold it was. "Greg, I miss you. I wish you hadn't have had to go. God, I miss you." She stood slowly. "Good-bye, love. I'll see you again one day, and I'll never forget you. I promise." She looked down at him and attempted a smile. "You look peaceful," she told him. 'That's one good thing."

He did look at peace, eyes closed as if he was asleep. He was dressed in his favorite t-shirt, that blue "Sex on T.V." shirt, along with a pair of jeans and, of course, his old, scuffed Converse shoes. His hair was spiked and, sans his pale, gaunt face, he almost looked normal.

She smiled at him once more through her tears and blew him a kiss. "Good night, Greggo. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Sara sat on the couch early the next morning, cradling her cup of coffee. It was Greg's coffee. She inhaled deeply and could almost smell him. That coffee aroma was a part of his scent, and it still lingered everywhere. She was wearing his old hoodie, snuggling deep in it. The smell of him was over-powering, so much that it almost brought tears to her eyes. 

She glanced at the clock and saw that it read 4:30. She sighed and got up, walking to the shower. After showering and dressing, she got in her car and headed over to the church, mentally thanking Catherine for taking care of her girls last night. God knows she wouldn't have wanted to drag them to the church this earlier in the morning.

She actually arrived at the church before the pastor did. Luckily, it was unlocked, so she let herself in and settled into a pew, looking up at the figure of Jesus suspended above the alter, illuminated by the first light of dawn coming in through the stained glass windows. She stared at the benevolent-looking figure and whispered aloud, "God…Jesus…Odin…whoever you are, watch over Greg. Whether he's in Heaven or Valhalla or wherever, just please, keep him safe. Let him know I love him."

She sat in silence for almost an hour, the dusty sunlight filtering in around her, casting multi-colored shadows over the pews and sanctuary. The door in the back creaked open and the little old pastor that had married her and Greg shuffled in. He didn't look surprised to see her there. "Good morning," he said quietly, voice echoing slightly in the empty church. "How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess," said Sara with a small half-smile. She stood as the pastor approached. "Sorry for being here so early."

"It's not a problem," said the pastor gently. "I'm sure you wanted to be with your husband."

"That and I needed to try and figure this whole thing out," she said quietly, eyes focusing sadly on Greg's casket at the front of the sanctuary. "I just don't understand why God would do this."

"Ah," said the pastor, nodding in understanding. "Yes. 'Eli, Eli, la'ma sabach-tha'ni?' 'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?'_(1)_" He smiled sadly at her. "What you must remember is that all things do happen for a reason, though we on earth may never see it. But seek the answers, and you will find them. 'If you cry out for insight and raise your voice for understanding, if you seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures; then you will find the knowledge of God.'_(2)_"

Sara sighed. "I believe I will most likely spend the rest of my life trying to figure out the reason."

The pastor nodded slowly. "That very well may be. 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.'_(3)_" He paused, then said quietly, "Sorry to change the subject, but we need to discuss the service."

"Right," said Sara briskly. "I don't want there to be too much religious stuff. Greg didn't want it, and he was more into Norse mythology than God. Grissom, Nick and I will be giving eulogies. That should be about it."

"Ok," agreed the pastor with a nod. He smiled at her. "I'll try my hardest not to say too much 'religious stuff', alright?"

She smiled at him. "Thank you," she whispered. She hesitated, then asked quietly, "Will you give me your blessing, father?"

He sighed and looked at her compassionately. "Of course." Raising his hands over her in benediction, he intoned, "May God's peace, mercy, and grace be with you always. May his light guide your path to the answers you seek. Amen."

"Amen," whispered Sara.

"Come," said the pastor gently. "It's time to get ready."

* * *

Sara sat in a daze as everyone filed into church. She barely acknowledged Catherine, Grissom, Nick or Warrick as they sat next to her, instead holding Freya to her even tighter, eyes fixed on the mahogany box that contained the only man she would ever love. Barely listening as the pastor gave the opening comments, she only tuned back in as Grissom went up to give his eulogy. 

Grissom's normal, stoic mask was in place, but nothing could hide the tears in his eyes or the tremble in his hands as he put his glasses on. Looking out over the crowd, he sighed deeply before speaking.

"Harriet Beecher Stowe once said, 'The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.' If there is one thing, and one thing only, that I am grateful for, it is the fact that we got to say good-bye, got to say what we needed to before Greg died.

"But can saying what we needed to atone for a man so young, so vibrant, so full of life dying? I don't know. I have no answers. Greg used to tell me that I had all the answers, but I don't anymore.

"When I first met Greg, he was twenty-two years old. Twenty-two and bored, because he was only working as the top research lab in California. I immediately recruited him for the lab; I recognized genius when I saw it. I only regret that I never took more time to tell him such. I think we all forgot just how adept Greg was at his job. He found DNA where there was no DNA to be found. He was running the number one DNA lab, in the number two crime lab, in the country before he was twenty-eight years old. He was offered hundreds of jobs every month, but he never left us. At least not until now."

His voice broke and had to pause to collect himself. When he spoke again, though, his voice showed no sign of weakness. "Socrates said, 'Death is one of two things. Either it is annihilation, and the dead have no consciousness of anything; or, as we are told, it is really a change: a migration of the soul from one place to another.' I think we know which one it is with Greg. He is still with us, and I know I speak for myself and my team when I speak the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 'He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.'"

He surveyed the crowd once more before sitting down to tremendous applause. Nick stood up to take his place, walking to the front of the church. "Um, well, I'm gonna take a leaf out of Grissom's book and start with a quote, though mine isn't as profound. According to Albus Dumbledore, 'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.' I agree, especially in Greg's case. He faced every challenge in his life as a new adventure, and I know he must've looked at death the same way.

I know the greatest of adventure of Greg's life was getting married, especially since it was to the woman he'd always loved. And it's really sad, devastating really, to me, because not even a year ago, I was making a speech at their wedding. Their love that has grown over this past year just amazes me. It's the purest love, the truest love I have ever seen. I said it then, and I'll say it now, their love and commitment is what makes me believe in love again. I know that Sara will never forget Greg, and he will never forget her. Just remember, Greggo, 'Do not forsake her, and she will keep you; love her, and she will guard you.'_(4)_ That's from the book of Proverbs, and it's true. Sara will always keep and guard Greg in her heart because never once did he forsake her; never once did he stop loving her.

"Truth of the matter with Greg is that he will not just live on in Sara's heart, but in all of our hearts and minds. Greg will always be my best friend, through this life and the next. He's my brother, forever." He had to stop and wipe his eyes before continuing. "I love him, and I miss him, and I'm gonna stop now before I turn into a big ol' blubbering mess up here." There was gentle, appreciative chuckling that accompanied the applause given to Nick as he sat down.

A hush fell over the congregation as Sara stood, handing Freya to Catherine. She walked to the front of the church and looked over the sea of people, face a mask of external calm. "Good morning," she said quietly. "I, like both of my predecessors, will be beginning with a quote. Mine is from the first book of John, chapter four, verse eighteen. 'There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.'" She surveyed the congregation, pure determination on her face. "I have no fear that Greg and I will find each other one day. I have my doubts, yes. There are times that I believe it will be impossible for me to ever find him again, but the love that we have for each other, the love that binds us together always, casts out these doubts and makes me believe again.

"At our wedding, an excerpt from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians was read, and I wish to read this to you in a more full text." She pulled out a piece of paper and cleared her throat.

"'If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge, if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give my body so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

'Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

'Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect, and our prophecy is imperfect, but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away.

'So faith, hope and love remain; but the greatest of these is love.'"

She looked at the crowd. "'Our knowledge is imperfect,'" she repeated, smiling slightly. "I know most of us, as scientists, would rather not hear that. But it's true. My love for Greg defies knowledge, logic and science. The perfection of our love leads me to question the most basic scientific principles." She paused again, then repeated, "'Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.' That is my love for Greg, a love that will never fail. Though his body may have given up, and though his heart, that heart that was so big and full of love, may have stopped beating, our love goes on, beyond death, beyond whatever else may try and separate us. After all, as R.W. Raymond once said, 'Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.'"

* * *

A few hours later, Sara slipped out of her house, dodging past more people who wished to give her their condolences for Greg's death. It was like a freaking party at her house, everyone chilling out and eating food. "Who knew a funeral was such a festive time?" she mused aloud as she escaped to the relative freedom of the backyard. 

She stood outside, shivering slightly as the chill of dusk settled in around her. The setting sun cast a purple hue on the sky, somehow making the stars stand out even more. Sara wrapped her arms around herself and tilted her face back, closing her eyes. She heard someone come up behind her, and hence wasn't surprised when she heard Nick ask, "Sara?"

"Mm?" she replied, turning to face him and opening her eyes.

"Are you ok?" he asked quietly, watching her closely. "I saw you come out here and…I dunno, I thought you might want some company."

She shrugged in assent and turned back to look up at the stars. Nick stood with her in silence for a few minutes before asking quietly, "Are you mad?" At her confused look, he elaborated, "With Greg. Are you mad that he left you?" He didn't wait for her to respond before he said in almost a whisper, "I am."

Sara reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "Nicky, it's not Greg's fault…" she whispered. "He didn't want to die. He didn't choose this." Nick didn't say anything, merely shrugging. She sighed and let go of his arm. "Think about it, Nick," she said, eyes looking back at the sky. "Think of how…how empty your life would be if you had never met Greg."

"Yeah, I guess…" said Nick slowly. "I just miss him, you know?"

"I know…" said Sara wistfully. "Believe me, I know. I miss him, too. But I would've spent my whole life searching for what I had with Greg if I had never met him. I would've rather spent one second, one moment with him than never knowing him at all."

Nick nodded, though his face was still troubled. "I think I'm gonna go back in," he said finally. "Don't stay out here too long. You don't want to catch cold."

"Thanks, Mom," said Sara wryly, but she smiled after him before turning once more to the sky. The wind had picked up, whipping past her still figure fast enough to bring tears to her eyes. She closed her eyes as the tears traced all-too-familiar paths down her cheeks. She whispered aloud words that Greg had taught her. "Odin, overvåke ublu den jeg elsker. Beholde ham til dagen jeg forbinder ideres herregård."_(5)_

She whispered into the wind, "I love you, Greg," closing her eyes as the wind carried her words into the desert.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_All Bible verses are from my ancient Revised Standard Version Bible._

_1. Matthew 27: 46_

_2. Proverbs 2: 3-5_

_3. Matthew 5: 4, 6_

_4. Proverbs 4: 6_

_5. Roughly "Odin, watch over the one that I love. Guard him until the day I join him in your hall." Roughly because I don't speak Norwegian, and this is the best freetranslation dot com can do._


	46. Lullaby Goodnight My Angel

**_A/N: _**_A bit of a supernatural feel in this one, I suppose. I, for one, believe that the soul can hang around for a bit after death, hence this chapter. This is the first of five songfics that make up the rest of the chapters. Words in _**bold**_ indicate the song lyrics. Usual disclaimer. And away we go..._

Chapter 46- Lullaby (Goodnight my Angel)

It was almost ten o'clock before everyone left Sara and Greg's house that night after the funeral. As the final car drove away, a lone figure leaned against the tree in the front yard, watching the house. The moonlight streaming through the tree leaves seemed to pass straight through the man, as if he was nothing more than shadow and light.

Greg sighed and stepped away from the tree, hands in pockets, and walked toward the house. The light in the bedroom had long since turned off, and Greg knew Sara was asleep. He drifted through the quiet house toward their bedroom, pausing for a moment before turning the doorknob and entering the darkened room.

Sara lay on the bed, brown hair spread over the pillow, which was still wet from her tears. Greg sat down on the edge of the bed, barely making an indentation in the mattress, and he reached out and brushed a few errant hairs off her forehead before laying a gently kiss on her temple.

"**Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes  
And save these questions for another day  
I think I know what you've been asking me  
I think you know what I've been trying to say"**

Greg cleared his throat and whispered aloud, "Sara…I miss you. I wish I could still be here with you. He went to grab her hand, but hesitated. "God, I miss you."

"**I promised I would never leave you  
And you should always know  
Wherever you may go  
No matter where you are  
I never will be far away"**

Greg touched his wedding band, twisting the translucent gold ring. "I will always be a part of you," he told her, shadowy tears beginning to fill his brown eyes "And I always will be with you, for the rest of your life. I love you so much, and I will never stop."

He stood and bent over her once more, kissing her softly on the cheek. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered before crossing out of the room. He went to Nicola's room and watched her as she slept, one arm curled around the teddy bear Greg had gotten her.

"**Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep  
And still so many things I want to say"**

"Nicola, I'm sorry," he said, walking to her bed. "I'm sorry that I made you lose another father. I'm sorry that I can't be with you." He looked down sadly at her. "There're so many things I wanted to tell you, so many things I wanted to teach you. I'll never get a chance to now."

"**Remember all the songs you sang for me  
When we went sailing on an emerald bay"**

Greg smiled at the memory of the trip they had taken to California at the end of August. All four of them together, as a family. Even Shadow had come along. They had visited Stanford (Greg had told Freya that Stanford was the college to go to—Screw Harvard!). They had gone sailing together, and Greg had gotten to surf one last time. He had wanted to teach Nicola to surf, but Sara had forbidden it. He and Sara had just spent their nights on the beach, lying together under the stars and listening to the ocean. It had been one of the best times of his life.

"**And like a boat out on the ocean  
I'm rocking you to sleep  
The water's dark and deep  
Inside this ancient heart  
You'll always be a part of me"**

Greg stooped over and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, smiling gently down at her. "You will always be my daughter, biological or not. Never be afraid to love someone with all your heart, regardless of whether or not you'll get hurt. I'll tell your mom when I see her that you say hi. Take care of Sara. She'll need you."

He continued on to Freya's room, crossing over to the crib and watching his daughter as he slept. He reached down and stroked her chubby cheek, smiling as one of her fists closed around his finger. "Hey," he whispered.

"**Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream  
And dream how wonderful your life will be"**

"My biggest regret is that I won't get to see you grow up," he told her, smile fading. "I won't be there for your first Christmas, your first birthday, your first tooth, your first word…that's an awful lot of firsts that I'm going to miss. I won't be able to corrupt you into loving chemistry as much as I do…" he added wistfully, then he smirked, "Though I'm sure Mommy will do a fine job turning you onto physics." He turned serious again. "Hell, I won't be there for your first crush, your first break-up…I won't be there to walk you down the aisle and give you away…"

"**Someday your child may cry  
And if you sing this lullaby  
Then in your heart  
There will always be a part or me"**

He paused, then said quietly, "There's so much of your life that I'll miss. So much of it. And you won't even remember me. That's the worst part. You'll have to grow up without a daddy." He paused again, then smiled. "Hey, at least you'll have Uncle Nicky and Uncle 'Rick and Aunt Catherine to look after you. Oh, and Grandpa Gil." He whispered conspiratorially, "You have to make sure to call him 'grandpa', just to piss him off. Tell him it's from me."

He looked down at her still-sleeping form and couldn't help the tears welling in his eyes. Clearing his throat loudly, he said, "Well, I feel like a freakin' Fairy Godfather being here like this, so I might as well grant you something. Now, since I'm not a fairy, I can only wish things for you, so here goes.

"Firstly, I wish you happiness. The most important thing you can have is happiness.

"Secondly, love. Believe me, it took long enough for me to get Sara to go out with me, but it was totally worth it. Once you find the one that you love, hold onto him. Never let go without a fight. Remember your middle name and what it means.

"Thirdly, my sense of humor. I just don't think it's possible to lead a healthy, productive life without an adequate sarcastic nature. Give everyone hell for me, alright?

"Since I'm pretending to be a fairy, those are the only three gifts or wishes I can leave you. I don't need to wish you beauty because, after all, you are my daughter. But seriously, live your life to the fullest, the best you can." He smiled down at her and kissed her lightly on the head. "I love you," he told her. "Never, ever forget that."

He left her then, going back to Sara's room, just leaning casually against the wall, watching her again. "God, Sara," he whispered, dark eyes filled with infinite sadness. "I miss you so much. I don't want to leave you, but I know I have to." He crossed over to her bed and kissed her softly on the cheek, taking time to simply stroke her hair gently with one hand. "I love you, Sara," he whispered in her ear. "Forever and always and until the apocalypse and for all eternity." He pressed a light kiss to her temple and walked to the door, lingering for only a moment more to look back at her before turning to the door. He stepped out into the hall and was gone.

* * *

_**A/N:** Song is "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)" by Billy Joel._  



	47. My Immortal

**_A/N: _**_Short, for which I apologize. The next chapter is a short one, too. Sara angst. w00t. Usual disclaimer; song is _My Immortal_ by Evanescence. This chapter and the next are pretty much rambles, but they do give an in-depth look into what Sara is thinking. Read on, faithful ones!_

Chapter 47- My Immortal

"**I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all my childish fears"**

Sara looked up from her desk. The lab was quiet tonight, just as it had been every night since he had gone. She had come back to work exactly one week after the funeral. Everyone had said it was too soon, that she should take more time off. Grissom had taken her aside and told her that he would personally sign for her leave if she wished it. She didn't. She needed to be there just to try and bring some sanity to the insane world. Greg would've wanted her to carry on.

"**If you have to leave  
I wish that you would just leave  
Cuz your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone"**

She got up and walked to the DNA lab, looking in. The temporary lab tech was busy doing something with the microscope, but Sara knew he'd never be half the lab rat that Greg was. She swallowed hard, feeling the tears come as they did every time she thought about Greg. She felt sometimes like she could never cry again, that all her tears had finally run out. She was always wrong.

It was as if he was still here. His CDs were still stacked haphazardly on one corner of the table in the lab. His stuff was still in his locker. No one had had the heart to go in there and clean it out yet. She certainly hadn't. Nick couldn't even walk by the lab without tearing up. He was having a hard time, a really hard time, and she didn't even know how to help him, because she couldn't even help herself.

**These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase"**

She remembered that day she came in and found Warrick drinking the Blue Hawaiian that Greg had left. She had slapped him across the face so hard that he had had a bruise for the next couple of days. Then she had dissolced into tears and just gone home without even clocking out.

"**When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
I held your hand for all of these years  
And you still have all of me"**

The end, when it finally came, was actually easier than watching Greg suffer. To have to see the man she loved going through so much pain had killed her inside. A small part of her was glad that he had died, just to end his suffering. He had been so peaceful when he died. He died the way he wanted to, with the people he loved nearby. It was just that when he had died, part of her had died with him.

"**You used to captivate me in my own resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the light you left behind"**

God, he had made this place so alive. With Greg around, she could finally see some light in the world. Even during the hardest cases, amidst the rapes and the murders and the senseless killing that left her feeling like she was drowning, he was there, that one ray of light breaking through. But when he died, that light went out.

"**Your face, it haunts my once present dreams  
Your voice could chase away all the sanity in me"**

He had been the only one who could make her forget that life was cruel, that life was a bitch. Which was ironic, considering life had been cruelest to him. Even though life had dealt him a crippling hand, he had always managed to find a smile and a laugh in everything, always managed to find the good in every person he had come across, always managed to find the humor in a world that was so serious.

She missed his voice, she missed his laugh…she missed him.

"**These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase"**

Give it time. That's what everyone told her. Just give it time, and it'll get better. It'll get easier.

Didn't they see? Didn't they get it? She didn't want time. Every second that slid by was another second that she had to live without him. Time couldn't make it better…time only made it worse. Every second that ticked by, every little mark the red second hand on the clock slid over was one more second closer to forgetting his smell or his laugh or his smile, or the way he held her or the way he kissed her. Time was her prison where she was locked without him.

"**When you cried I wiped away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears"**

After the kidnapping, after the rape, after his cancer had been diagnosed, he was still left with his nightmares…they had been one of the worst parts. Afterwards, she would try to comfort him as best she could, just holding him as his fragile body shook with sobs. It always broke her heart to see him like that, to see the man she thought was so invincible be so lost.

"**I held your hand through all these years  
And you still have all of me"**

She would never remarry. She had made that decision a long time ago. No matter what, she had promised to be Greg's forever, and nothing would change that. The moment she had said her "I Do" at the altar, holding his hand, she had sealed her fate forever with his.

"**I try so hard to tell myself that you're gone"**

She had tried. Tried to go through the day telling herself that he was gone…that he was never coming back…that he wouldn't be there in the morning when she woke up or holding her at night as she drifted to sleep…but sometimes, it was easier to live the lie that he wasn't really gone forever, that one day she would see him again.

"**But though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along"**

She was alone. God, so alone. Even surrounded by people in a giant crowd, she was alone. All because he had gone, and he had taken her heart with him, to the one place she couldn't follow…or could she?

"**When you cried I wiped away all of your tears  
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears  
I held your hand through all of these years  
And you still have all of me"**

Sometimes, she wanted to give up, to let go. She had thought about it, actually. Because life just wasn't worth living without him.


	48. A Thousand Miles

**_A/N: _**_Short, very short. But the sentiment in the chapter isn't really in what I wrote; it's in the song. To get the true effect of this chapter, listen to the song. It's _A Thousand Miles_ by Vanessa Carlton._

Chapter 48- A Thousand Miles

"**Making my way downtown  
Walking fast  
Faces pass  
And I'm homebound"**

Sara left the crime lab and started walking home. Even though it was a good hour-long walk, it let her clear her head and think about things. She had walked home every day since she had come back to work. She joked that it was because she didn't want to sit in traffic, but the real reason was just that she wanted to be alone.

"**Staring blankly ahead  
Just making my way  
Making a way  
Through the crowds"**

She ignored everyone who passed and just kept walking, pushing her way through the people bustling on by. She looked at them and wanted to cry, knowing that none of them even knew that a fantastic man was gone. The brightest light she had ever known in this world had been snuffed out before his time, and a fraction of the world knew about it. She wanted to shout from the rooftops how much this world would miss him now that he was gone, but she didn't, for she knew they would never understand.

"**And I need you  
And I miss you"**

She needed him. She needed him to be near her, to hold her, to love her. She missed his arms around her, his voice soothing her. She needed him to live. He was the air that she breathed, the food she ate, the water she drank. He was what woke her up in the morning for work, and what woke her up in the middle of the night, screaming and shaking from nightmares. He was everything she had ever needed, and that would never change.

"**And now I wonder  
If I could fall into the sky  
Do you think time would pass me by?"**

She wanted time to be over with. She wanted the seconds, the minutes, the hours, days, years she would have to live without him to be over. To be done. So she could be with him again. So she could kiss him and hug him and just...touch him.

"**Cuz you'd know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If I could just see you  
Tonight"**

God, what she would give to see him just once more. What she would give to be able to see his chocolate eyes smiling at her. She would honestly give all her earthly possessions to hear him say that he loves her once more. She would give everything just to feel his arms around her. She would gladly give up her life to be with him.

"**It's always times like these  
When I think of you  
And I wonder if you ever think of me"**

Did he miss her as much as she missed him? She often wondered that. Wherever he was, was he as heartbroken as she was? Did he sit in Heaven (for he was surely not in Hell) and think about her, and miss her? Was he in Valhalla at this very moment wondering what she was doing, wondering if she missed him? She liked to think that he did, because she missed him so badly that it was almost like a physical aching.

"**Cuz everything's so wrong  
And I don't belong  
Living in your precious memory"**

She needed him. Oh, God, she needed him. Her life was so wrong without him. It was as if someone had smashed her life to pieces and everyone expected her to glue it back together, but half of it was gone. She just…couldn't. Sure, she knew that no one really expected her to be able to just pick up the pieces like that, but they expected her to go on. She was the strong one, she was the one who was always able to make things right again. But this...she didn't think anything could fix his. Nothing could make her heart whole again.

"**And I need you  
And I miss you"**

The raw needing that she felt tore her up inside. She had never felt such need for anything or anyone in her life. She needed him to breathe…God, she needed him to simply exist. She was nothing without him, and without him she would just fade away.

"**And now I wonder"**

How many times had she wondered? How many times had she hoped and prayed that wherever Greg was, she'd go too? She had not done all good things in her life. She had not been a good person. She knew that she did not deserve whatever paradise Greg was in right now, but she could only pray that she'd go there anyway.

"**If I could fall into the sky  
Do you think time would pass me by?  
Cuz you know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If I could just see you  
Tonight"**

She paused in her walking and looked up at the sky. She couldn't see any stars. Not that there were any you could normally see this time of day, but even besides that, the smog and pollution from the city blocked her view.

She wished she could see the stars. Greg had told her once that if she would look up at the stars, she's see him, and they'd be together, through the stars. She wished this was true. If she could see him, through the stars, maybe her life would be different somehow. Maybe she wouldn't feel so lost.

"**And I, I don't want to let you know  
I, I drown in your memory"**

He had told her once that he wanted her to be happy, even after he was gone. That he didn't want her to dwell on it; he wanted her to move on. How could she move on? He was all she ever thought about. He lived in her mind like a little nomad who had set up a permanent camp.

She smiled vaguely at that similie, then frowned as she wondered if she was going crazy. Maybe she was...but if she was, it was only because she missed him so much.

She walked on, mind automatically going back to the thoughts of "moving on". She knew she couldn't...it would be liked letting go of a part of her most vital self.

"**And I, I don't want to let this go  
I, I don't"**

Letting go and moving on meant that she had to forget him, and she could never, ever do that. If she ever did that, forgot even for a minute about the most wonderful man in the world, then she would never forgive herself. It may get easier as they all said, sure, but if she ever forgot about Greg, she would be lost forever.

"**Making my way downtown  
Walking fast  
Faces pass  
And I'm homebound  
Staring blankly ahead  
Just making my way  
Making a way  
Through the crowds"**

She kept walking, toward the house that had once been a home. But now it was just a cold, empty place, like her life without him. It could never be her home again; he was her home.

"**And I still need you  
And I still miss you"**

She needed him; she missed him; these things would never change. And a large part of her didn't want them to.

"**And now I wonder  
If I could fall into the sky  
Do you think time would pass me by?  
Cuz you know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If I could just see you  
And now I wonder  
If I could fall into the sky  
Do you think time would pass me by?  
Cuz you know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If I could just see you  
If I could just hold you  
Tonight"**


	49. Meet You There

**_A/N: _**_Funnily enough, though I mentioned in chapter 46 that all of the last five chapters are songfics, I was kidding! This one isn't. It does, however, have a decidedly supernatural feel to it, which you will understand when you read further. Also, warning for ruminations of suicide. Poem was written by Anonymous. Usual disclaimer applies as it ALWAYS HAS AND ALWAYS WILL. God, I'm so tired of writing that...but only one more chapter, right? Anywho..._

Chapter 49- Meet You There

"Now you're gone,  
I wonder why  
You left me here,  
I think about it on, and on,  
And on, and on, and on, again.  
I know you're never coming back,  
I hope that you can hear me,  
I'm waiting to hear from you…  
Until I do,

You're gone away,  
I'm left alone,  
A part of me is gone,  
And I'm not moving on,  
So wait for me,  
I know the day will come…

I'll meet you there,  
No matter where life takes me to,  
I'll meet you there,  
And even if I need you here,  
I'll meet you there.

I wish I could have told you,  
The things I kept inside,  
But now I guess its just too late.  
So many things remind me of you,  
I hope that you can hear me,  
I miss you,  
This is goodbye,  
One last time…

You're gone away,  
I'm left alone,  
A part of me is gone,  
And I'm not moving on,  
So wait for me,  
I know the day will come…

I'll meet you there,  
No matter where life takes me to,  
I'll meet you there,  
And even if I need you here  
I'll meet you there,  
No matter where life takes me to,  
I'll meet you there,  
And even if I need you here,  
I'll meet you there.

I'll meet you there...

And where I go you'll be there with me,  
Forever you'll be right here with me…

I'll meet you there,  
No matter where life takes me to,  
I'll meet you there,  
And even if I need you here,  
I'll meet you there,  
No matter where life takes me...  
I'll meet you there,  
And even if I need you...  
I'll meet you there...  
I'll meet you there...  
I'll meet you there…"

Meet You There by Simple Plan

Sara sat in their house, their now far too quiet house. Nicola and Freya were staying with Catherine, and now she was alone. Or she would be alone if Greg's presence didn't haunt her.

He was still present in their house. His clothes still hung in the closet, his toothbrush still sat in its holder next to hers, his scent still lingered throughout the silent rooms. She took a deep breath and could smell him there. His scent was that of dark coffee and sweet candy, the smell of a morning after rain. It was already fading, and she had to smell his clothes to keep it fresh in her mind.

She couldn't sleep in their bed anymore. It was too big, and the realization she got whenever she rolled over in the middle of the night and there was no one there…well, she could do without it. She had decided to sleep on the couch instead, at least until it…it got better.

She was sitting on the couch now, mug of tea cradled in her hands, watching a video as it played on the T.V. It was the homemade video from their wedding, the one that Warrick had videotaped. Sara started crying again as the camera zoomed in on Greg's face, so full of light, full of life as he watched her walk down the aisle.

Unable to stand it anymore, she clicked off the T.V., looking instead at the sleeping pills on the table. She had been taking them every night, just to get a couple of hours of sleep, but now she was wondering if perhaps she could use them for a different purpose.

Tears coursed down her face as she struggled between the thought of seeing Greg again and the thought of being there to raise their daughters. She knew that they would be taken care of; Catherine would probably take them in. It would be hardest on Nicola, who was dealing with losing her second father, and if Sara decided to go through with it, she would lose another mother as well.

But Nicola was strong; she was a fighter. God, she was so much like Greg in that aspect. When Sara looked at Nicola, she saw Greg, even though she wasn't his biological daughter. They shared their quirky sense of humor, their love for life, their will to fight.

What saddened Sara was that her daughter would never know her father. Freya would have to rely on everyone else's memories and on videos of Greg. Sara supposed it didn't really matter, then, if Freya lost a mother…she'd never remember anyway.

Sara made up her mind. Her children could live without her, but she couldn't live without Greg. Trembling, she reached out a hand for the pills and was shocked when someone else picked them up first.

She looked up and her heart clenched. It was Greg. He was standing there, dressed as usual in a pair of jeans and one of his t-shirts. His hair was spiked, and he looked…healthy. He looked whole.

He glanced down at the bottle of pills, then looked at her sadly. She couldn't meet his eyes. "Sara…" he whispered, his voice echoing slightly as if it came from far away. "Sara, what are you doing?"

She started to sob. "Greg, I can't do it. I can't take it! I need you…I need you…"

Greg looked at her mournfully and set the bottle down on the table before sitting next to her on the couch. "Sara, sweetie, I'm here. I've always been here and I will always be here."

"Greg, I know that a part of you will always be here with me, but I don't want a part of you. I want all of you. I need all of you. Greg, I love you."

Ghostly transparent tears traced their way down Greg's face and disappeared into thin air when they dripped off. "Sara, I know. I love you, and I miss you, and I most certainly need you, but you can't do this. There'll be one day when we will be together again, but that day is not today."

"How do you know?" she challenged. "How do you know that our time to be together is not now?"

"Because if it was time now," he said calmly, "you wouldn't have to commit suicide to be with me." Sara didn't say anything; she just shook her head. Greg sighed and took one of her hands, holding it in his own. "Sara, I was given a choice. As I lay dying, a voice asked me if I would rather spend this lifetime with you, and an eternity apart, or have you spend the rest of your life without me, and then we can spend eternity together. I chose the second one because even though I can't be with you physically in this lifetime, during your time on earth, I will always be with you."

"But how will I know?" she cried, unable to hold back all the doubt she felt inside. "How will I know that you're with me?"

Greg smiled sadly at her. "Just look at our daughter," he said quietly. "She is the product of our love, in human form. If you need a reminder that our love still lives, look at the beautiful baby girl you gave birth to. Look at the ring on your finger, because that is the promise that I made to you when I married you. I told you I would never leave you, and I won't."

"But…where will you be?" she insisted, eyes searching his. "Where will you be? Where will I be able to find you?"

"Sara, wherever you go, no matter where you are, I'll be there. Let me tell you a poem I heard once.

'Do not stand at my grave and weep  
I am not there, I do not sleep  
I am the thousand winds that blow  
I am the diamond glint on the snow  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain  
I am the gentle morning rain  
And when you wake in the morning's hush  
I am that sweet uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight  
I am the stars that shine at night  
Do not stand at my grave and cry  
I am not there, I did not die.'

"Sweetheart, that's how it will be with me. I will be with you all the time, in everything you see and touch."

Sara didn't bother wiping away the tears that flowed freely down her face; she simply threw herself into Greg's arms and cried on his shoulder. He hugged her tightly, holding on as if he's never let go. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmured as he stroked her hair.

They pulled apart reluctantly and Greg wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "Sweetheart, I have to go now," he whispered, clearly not wanting to leave. "My time is almost up." She didn't bother protesting, just nodded her head and bit her lip. "C'mon, I'll put you to bed," he said, and he carried her into their room and set her on the bed.

"Greg, will you just come lie with me? Please?" she asked, voice trembling slightly. He nodded and lay down next to her, wrapping his arms around her, just like he used to. "I love you, Greg," she whispered, holding on to him tightly. "I'll always love you, and I promise that when I die, I'll come find you, no matter what."

She kissed him, one last, sweet kiss, then laid her head on the pillow. "I love you too, Sara," he whispered in her ear, stroking her hair comfortingly as she drifted off to sleep. Greg was drifting off too, but he was drifting back to where he had come from.

As he slowly disappeared, he whispered in response to what Sara had said earlier, "I'll meet you there."


	50. Together Again

**_A/N:_**_ Sara and Greg's dates of birth were taken from Wikipedia, so blame them, not me, if they're wrong. Quote in Italics is from _The Lovely Bones_ by Alice Sebold. This is it, folks, the final chapter, and may I just say, it's been some ride! Thank you to all who have supported me in this (see bottom for a more extensive thank you). So, for the last time in this story, usual disclaimer applies. Now, ONWARD!  
_

Chapter 50- Together Again

A tall, shadowy figure stood in the doorway of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. No one took any notice of him as they hurried about their busy ways. In fact, to the casual observer, it seemed as if everyone just walked through him, as if he was made of nothing. Which might've been because they did just walk through him, because he was made of nothing.

Greg looked with saddened eyes as all the people he had known scurried about him, no one even realizing his presence. With a sigh, he straightened from his casual lean against the doorframe and wandered through the busy hallways, gazing longingly into the rooms. There was Trace, with Hodges diligently analyzing some piece of evidence or another. Greg smiled as the older man worked, remembering his unexpected camaraderie against Ecklie. Greg looked for a moment longer before moving on, not noticing that Hodges looked up from his microscope and shivered, as though he felt a sudden draft.

Greg walked down to the morgue, watching as Doc Robbins posted a young woman. He saw David carefully prep an older man for autopsy. He didn't linger long in that part of the building; he was dead and it still creeped him out.

Instead, he meandered to the A/V lab, watching as Archie played PS2 on the TV. He felt a sudden pang of loss as he watched Jacqui and Bobby stroll in. He watched them joke with Archie, as if nothing had happened, not noticing the sadness in Jacqui's eyes or the heaviness to Archie's step.

Greg did not stay long. Instead, he hurried on. There was more to see.

"**There are times  
When I look above  
And beyond  
There are times  
When I feel your love  
Around me, baby  
I'll never forget my baby  
I'll never forget you"**

Sara closed the file and set it on her desk. Another case closed. Standing, she stretched and, looking around, smiled slightly. Greg's presence was still there, but now, it was comforting instead of haunting. As Sara looked around the familiar sights of the lab, she drew in a deep breath and sighed.

"**There are times  
When I look above  
And beyond  
There are times  
When I feel your love  
Around me, baby  
I'll never forget my baby  
When I feel that I don't belong  
Draw my strength  
From the words when you said  
Hey it's about you, baby  
Look deeper inside you, Baby"**

She still missed him. She doubted she would ever stop missing him. But now, it was more like a dull throb that hit her hard sometimes, and that at other times, she could barely feel, but was still aware of. She would always miss him.

And it was the little things she would miss the most. The sound of his laugh. The way his eyes glowed whenever they looked at her. The smell of his cologne. The feel of his arms around her. The taste of his lips on hers.

"**Dream about us together again  
What I want us together again, Baby  
I know we'll be together again"**

Greg's next stop was Catherine's office. She and Warrick were inside, discussing a case. Warrick cracked a joke and they both laughed, Catherine's hand lightly touching Warrick's arm. Greg's heart clenched as he saw them. They were so…alive. So happy. He missed that feeling of life.

He did not linger long with them, continuing on down the hallway.

"**Cuz  
Everywhere I go  
Every smile I see  
I know you are there  
Smiling back at me  
Dancin' in moonlight  
I know you are free  
Cuz I can see your star  
Shinin' down on me"**

Whenever it got to be too much, Sara would remember what Greg had said about the stars. She would drive out to the desert and just sit outside, looking up at the twinkling diamonds caught in blue-black velvet. She knew that somewhere, Greg was watching her, looking down on her, and that was what gave her hope. That was what gave her the strength to live each day.

"**Together again, Oo  
Good times we'll share again  
Together again, Oo  
It makes me wanna dance  
Together again, Oo  
See you loud and proud"**

Greg's next stop was brief as well, but that was only because he had just visited this person a week or so ago. Nick stood in one of the labs, going over a vic's clothes for evidence. Greg leaned on the door and watched him as he worked.

Nick was doing better now; he hadn't been doing so well before. Greg had visited him at his place one day, had swung by and watched the Texan as he slept. New lines had formed on Nick's face, making him look even older. Greg had gently touched those lines, tracing them with his finger. "You need to smile more," Greg had whispered into the sleeping man's ear. "Smile for me."

Now, though Nick was far from being ok, he was happier. In fact, a small smile tugged at his lips as he found a black hair that wasn't the vic's. Greg smiled wistfully as Nick hurried from the lab to take the hair to DNA. He wished he was in there now, swiveling around in his chair and joking with Nick.

Either way, he had tarried too long here. He quickly turned and walked on.

"**Together again, Oo  
All my love's for you**

**  
Always been a true angel to me  
Now above  
I can't wait for you to wrap  
Your wings around me, baby  
Wrap 'em around me, baby  
Sometimes hear you whisperin'**  
'**No more pain'  
No more worries will you ever see now, baby  
I'm so happy for my baby"**

Sara really did take comfort from the fact that Greg wasn't in pain anymore. As lame as it sounded, or as false as it sounded, it was the truth, because in the end, he was in so much pain. So much pain. And he had been holding on for her. She knew that, but it somehow made it worse. The fact that he would suffer so much pain just to bring her some comfort was unfathomable. She knew that she would never truly understand the depths of his love for her, but the fact that he would suffer that much for her gave her glimpse of his abounding love.

"**Dream about us together again  
What I want us together again, baby  
I know we'll be together again"**

Greg's next stop was Grissom's office. And there was Grissom himself, sitting behind his desk. All the bugs were still on the walls, that stupid radioactive pig still in its jar. No, Grissom's office had not changed one bit. Except for one thing, which Greg hardly noticed until he stepped into the room and went over to stand next to Grissom. It was picture, on Grissom's desk, a picture that Greg was fairly certain hadn't been there before. It was a picture of Greg.

The picture had been taken a year or so ago, before everything had started. Nick had gotten a new camera and had decided to stalk the team, snapping candids of whenever he got a chance. This picture of Greg had been one of the only ones to turn out well.

Of course, that hardly explained its prominent position among Gil's valued bugs and pig. Greg tried to tell himself that it was just out of respect for his passing, but he knew otherwise. Grissom missed him, that boy stuck in a grown-up's body, that funny lab tech who was always cracking jokes...and yes, that young man that had looked on Grissom as his father. Griss missed that, almost as much as Greg missed Gil.

"**Cuz  
Everywhere I go  
Every smile I see  
I know you are there  
Smiling back at me  
Dancin' in moonlight  
I know you are free  
Cuz I can see your star  
Shinin' down on me"**

Grissom, unlike his office, had changed, in both good ways and bad. He looked older now, more vulnerable. Lines now creased his face more than they had before. On the other hand, he had started to take off more time from work, going on vacation every once in awhile, and enjoying life while he still could.

Greg smiled slightly. If his death had accomplished one good thing, then that was it. Grissom now appreciated life, and the man that Greg had once thought feared nothing was now afraid of the unlived life.

"**Together again, Oo  
Good times we'll share again  
Together again, Oo  
Makes me wanna dance  
Together again, Oo  
See you loud and proud  
Together again, Oo  
All my love's for you"**

Greg wished that he could stay longer with Grissom, but he knew his time was limited, and there was one more person he had to see, the person he needed to see the most.

He left Grissom's office and headed down the hall, only pausing when he noticed a large frame on the wall that contained a collage of pictures of himself. Greg touched it gently with one finger, reading the words at the bottom.

"In Memory and Honor of Greg Sanders, Master of his Domain."

Ghostly transparent tears welled in his eyes as he read the words, truly touched. Then he looked back at the pictures, fingers tracing over the one that always stuck out the most, his wedding picture.

It summed up his entire relationship with Sara perfectly. It wasn't one of those phony, posed photos. They had insisted that none of those be taken. Instead, it was a shot taken right after they had cut the cake. Greg had carefully put his piece in Sara's mouth, but she had decided to smash it into his face with the velocity of a speeding car (Physics major…hah!). So somehow, he had ended up with frosting on his nose. And Sara had decided to lick it off. The camera had taken the picture right as she had leaned in to lick it, resulting in the cutest picture. Sara had ended up kissing him on the nose, and the smiles on their faces were priceless.

Greg smiled fondly one last time before heading down the hallway, picking up speed at the thought of seeing her.

"**There are times when I look above  
And beyond  
There are times when I feel you smile  
Upon me, baby  
I'll never forget my baby"**

Sara peered through the magnifying glass at the fiber she was analyzing. Suddenly, she felt a presence wash over her, a presence she hadn't felt this strongly for a long time. It struck a chord with her, a chord that resonated so deeply within her soul that she felt tears in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room, knowing that he was there somewhere with her. "Hey Greg," she said aloud, one tear slipping down her cheek. "I miss you. I know that I will always miss you, but it's ok. I'm ok." She paused, then said seriously, "I really am ok. It hurts, but I'm gonna make it." She paused once more, then smiled. "I love you, Greggo," she whispered before returning to her work, a small smile still playing on her lips.

"**What I'd give just to hold you close  
As on earth  
In heaven we will be together, baby  
Together again, my baby"**

Greg smiled, blinking back tears as he watched Sara work. Knowing that she was really ok lifted an enormous weight off of him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's time to let go."

"I know," he said quietly. He took one last look at Sara. "One day, we'll be together again," he whispered, smiling slightly at her. "I love you." One tear slipped down his cheek as he disappeared for the last time.

_ "You don't notice the dead leaving when they really choose to leave you. You're not meant to. At most you feel them as a whisper or the wave of a whisper undulating down. I would compare it to a woman in the back of a lecture hall or theater whom no one notices until she slips out. Then only those near the door themselves notice; to the rest it is like an unexplained breeze in a closed room."_

"**Everywhere I go  
Every smile I see  
I know you are there  
Smiling back at me  
Dancin' in moonlight  
I know you are free  
Cuz I can see your star  
Shinin' down on me"**

Sara wearily rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen for coffee. She had forty-five minutes before she needed to leave for work. A small, sad smile creased her face as she realized she had been working at the Las Vegas Crime Lab for over twenty years. Everyone else had gone, moved on, except for her. She was director now, a prestigious enough postition. Suddenly, her smile froze as she realized what today was. Frowning slightly, she picked up her cell phone and pushed the first speed dial.

A too-cheery voice picked up. "Las Vegas Crime Lab, how may I be of service?"

"Hey, Greta, it's me."

"Oh, Mrs. Sanders, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Listen, can you tell everyone that I'm not coming in today? I'm taking a personal day."

"Sure, Mrs. Sanders. You have a nice day."

Sara smiled sadly again. "I will, Greta. Thank you." She shut her cell phone and went to go get dressed.

When she was ready, she drove over to the cemetery. Parking the car, she got out and slowly walked to the quiet grave. She stood looking down at it, then spoke quietly. "Well, Greg, it's been twenty years. Twenty years to the day since you died." She paused, then said, "Freya's doing great in college. Stanford girl. You must be proud. She's majoring in chemistry, did I tell you that? Just like you, except she wants to be a chem teacher. And Nicola loves her job. The Chicago Crime Lab is lucky to have her."

She paused again, this time longer, and when she spoke once more, her voice was full of sorrow. "Greg, I miss you. I miss you like it was yesterday that you died. I miss you in a way I never thought I could miss anyone." Silence fell as she wiped her eyes. "I love you, Greg."

A voice came from behind her. "I love you, too."

Sara whirled around in shock. Greg stood there, looking much like he had twenty year ago. "Greg!" she exclaimed, taking a step towards him, then, remembering herself, turned her head away as if ashamed.

"Sara, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly, stepping toward her.

"I'm old Greg. I feel old. You're so young-looking still, and me…I've gotten older."

"Not in my eyes," said Greg simply.

She didn't say anything, just shaking her head. "Why are you here?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you couldn't come back."

"This is a special case." He paused and smiled at her. "Sara, I'm here to take you home with me."

"Now?" she asked when what he meant had sunken in. "But what about Nicola and Freya? Don't they still need me?"

"Not as much now," he answered honestly. "You've done a really good job with them." He looked her in the eyes and held out a hand. "Come home with me, Sara," he whispered.

Sara hesitated, thinking of all the things she would miss. Her girls, of course. All her friends, though most she hadn't seen in years. She would miss the simple things, the sun shining, the smell of grass.

But as she looked into Greg's eyes, she knew that none of them could possibly compare to how much she had missed him. "Ok," she said simply. "I'll come with you."

"Good," he said, reaching for her hand. As they touched, Sara gasped. She felt as if she was thirty-five again, holding his hand just as she used to. Greg smiled at her, then leaned in and kissed her.

She kissed him back, not fiercely, but gently, the way she had wanted to for twenty years. Then she smiled at him and together they turned and walked off into the distance.

In an empty cemetery on a late October morning, the body of a woman lay still next to the grave of the man she had always loved.

"**Everywhere I go  
Every smile I see  
I know you are there  
Smiling back at me  
Dancin' in moonlight  
I know you are free  
Cuz I can see your star  
Shinin' down on me"**

Freya Kjære Sanders-Smith slowly got out of her old blue car, reaching for the two bouquets of flowers sitting on the front seat. She trudged slowly up the hill, conscious as always of the baby growing in her that caused her constant discomfort.

When she reached the top of the hill, a lone woman was waiting for her. Freya smiled at Nicola, and the two women hugged silently, Nicola taking one of the bouquets from Freya as they parted. They both turned and walked a short way to the two headstones, right next to each other under the large oak tree.

Nicola leaned down and placed her bouquet against the headstone that read:

"Gregory Hojem Sanders

May 5, 1975 – October 28, 2006

'Maybe in another life  
I could find you there  
Pulled away before your time  
I can't deal, it's so unfair'"

Nicola smiled briefly as she touched the marble words with her finger, remembering the man she had truly considered her father. The inscription on the stone was from an Offspring song that Greg had liked. "I miss you, Daddy," she whispered, smiling sadly. "You're still my hero."

Freya knelt as well, placing her flowers against the other headstone, which read:

"Sara Jane Sanders

September 16, 1971 – October 28, 2026"

The inscription on the bottom had been picked out by Sara herself, and expressed in her will. It simply read, "Together Again."

The two girls took a moment before standing, Nicola helping the less-stable Freya up, and walking back to their respective cars, pausing only to hug good-bye. Both got in their cars and drove away, knowing that their parents were truly together again for eternity.

**FIN**

**

* * *

**

**_A/N:_**_ Well, that's it folks. The end of a long, long road. A huge MASSIVE thank you to everyone who's read this, but especially to the following people (in no particular order) for their fantastic reviews:_

_Jennie, Aemie, angw, Bizy, Chocolate DumDums, Greeneyes, grissomsgirl176, Teri Neko (a million and a half thanks to you; you've kept me going through the last several chapters!), LittleItaly, dork1147, I never promised (who I'm pretty sure reviewed more times than anyone else), LocoGreggo (same goes for you...kept me going! Thanks), nix586141, kegel, Joralie, and El Gringo Loco (even negative reviews are helpful. Thank you for being honest)._

_ Also, many thnaks to those who made this story one of their favorites: Aemie, argon18, astronomylover, darkdragonlord36, Enrique Forever, grissomsgirl176, I never promised, jenainslie, LocoGreggo, nix586141, rascalflattsgurl43, Teri Neko, tigerlillies101891, and TrishieChan._

_And hey, thanks to YOU, right? 'Cause you're reading this right now! _

_Peace, everyone, and rock on!_

_K.Z.T. _


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